


Forbidden

by fuzzhugs



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: F/M, Mossflower, Redwall - Freeform, Redwall Abbey, long patrol, otter - Freeform, stoat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 13:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzhugs/pseuds/fuzzhugs
Summary: Yidra is an ottermaid who has been taught all her life that vermin are violent and untrustworthy. Kerner is an orphaned stoat, left to fend for himself along the seashore. When a chance encounter on the beach starts a romance between them, Yidra and Kerner must fight to find a way to be together in a world where woodlanders and vermin do not mix.





	Forbidden

Yidra was glad that she was almost an adult and no longer of the age where she had to ask permission to wander up and down the beach and then sneak out when her parents said no. Her father didn’t like it when she walked so far from home, but there was nothing he could do to stop her from becoming more independent as she grew. It also helped that her two younger brothers kept her parents busy enough that any time she spent absent from the holt made things a modicum easier for them, so her frequent departures often went without question or concern.   
She was no longer a little otter, but Yidra was still young enough to be unconcerned by acting silly. She danced in and out of the approaching waves, skipping and prancing when the mood struck her. Every so often she would pause to pick a seashell out of the surf to bring to her brothers later. Once in a while, a hermit crab would push itself out of a shell she had picked up, angrily snapping at her with its claws.  
“So sorry, Mister Crab. Didn’t know you were at home,” she would say on those occasions.   
On this particular day, she had set out earlier in the morning just after her morning chores were completed, slipping out from her family’s cave in the crowded cavern where the entire holt lived.   
By noon, she was miles from Holt Warmspring, but still well within familiar territory. She and her family had gone much farther beyond when they swam with the currents to chase fish seeking warmer waters. Like any growing ottermaid, she was hungry, and while she would have had no problem swimming out to catch a fish, her mother would be furious if she came home with her clothes soaked and filthy with sand, so she took a line out from the drawstring bag that hung from her belt, found a stick to use as a rod, and cast the line into the sea. She fixed the rod in position while she waited for a bite, gathering driftwood and making a small cooking fire.   
Shortly after the fire began burning, fish started taking an interest in her line. In a few minutes, she had a number of small herring stuck on a spit and cooking.   
“Chew slowly now. Don’t choke on the bones,” Yidra impersonated her mother as she took the fish off the fire to cool before she ate them.  
Having only grown hungrier as she fished and cooked, Yidra began to tear into the first fish as soon as it was cool enough to eat. She wasn’t as good a cook as her mother, and she had no other ingredients, but hungry otters are rarely picky, and the fish was stripped to the bone in short order. Still hungry, Yidra moved on to her second fish.  
“S’cuse me, missy. Could you spare a fish for a starving young creature?” called a voice from behind her.  
Yidra looked around and upward at a nearby dune. At the top was a young stoat, lying on his back with his head pointing down the slope such that he appeared to be upside down. He was shirtless, but wore a ragged pair of ill-fitting sailor’s breeches and a red bandana tied around his neck that strongly contrasted against his brown fur. He had striking green eyes, and a corner of his mouth was turned up in a casual half-grin.   
Slowly, Yidra brought her paw to the stone dagger she had tucked in her belt. Her holt had never had a problem with vermin raiders, but her father and all the other adults in the holt and always spoken ill of them, telling the young ones to be cautious and to never trust them.   
“Whadda you want?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice calm.   
The stoat shrugged, still grinning. “I’m just hungry, an’ you got fish. Spare one? Please?”  
Yidra was unsure what to do. The older creatures at the holt always said vermin-types were brutal and aggressive or cunning and sly, but this stoat, who couldn’t have been far from her own age, seemed to be sincere and polite. Scruffy, but polite. He was also dreadfully skinny; his ribs showed clearly, poking against his hide. He was quite a bit shorter than her. At his full height, the tips of his ears wouldn’t have gone past the base of her neck. Yidra figured she could overpower or at least outrun him if she needed to. She eased her paw away from her dagger. “Come on down then.”  
Pushing off from the top of the dune, the stoat slid down, still on his back, flowing over the sand like liquid, coming to a rest beside Yidra. He sat up cross-legged and picked up the fish, devouring it with the gusto of a starving creature.   
“Thanks missy,” he said between mouthfuls. “Haven’t had a decent bite in days. Limpets make dreadful eating.”   
“My name is Yidra, not missy,” the ottermaid said, trying to be civil to the stranger.  
“I’m Kerner,” the stoat said. “Like ‘corner’, buts not quite. Though most beasts call me ‘go away varmint.’ Then they usually start throwing things at me.”  
Yidra giggled at the stoat’s ridiculous statement but quickly composed herself. “Do you live around here, Kerner?” she asked.  
“At the moment. Got a little place. Don’t know how long I’ll be there.”  
“You don’t live with your parents?”  
Kerner paused. “Ain’t got no parents for a long time. Been just me.” He wiped his eye with his paw. “Sometimes I stay with friends, but not often. Go up and down the coast as I please.”  
“That sounds nice. Traveling as much as you want, I mean.”  
“It’s much nicer having a full belly. Thank you again for the fish.”  
“It’s nothing. So what do you do when you travel?”  
“Mostly I beg for food when I can’t scavenge anything. Don’t always meet such generous ottermaids.”  
Kerner was turning out to be a very friendly stoat, despite his hard life. Yidra figure she could help him out a little. “Do you want me to show you how to fish?”  
“Don’t do me much good. Haven’t got a line or nothing.”  
“You can have mine. We’ve plenty of them back home. Now get up and kick some sand over that fire.”  
Yidra spent an hour with Kerner showing him how to use the line, bait the hook, and pull in his catch. By the end, he had his own decently sized fish strung on the line.   
“There, you can take that home and cook it for supper.”  
“You sure you want me to have the line? Seems pretty important thing to just give away.”  
“I said we have plenty at home. They break once in a while and have to be replaced, so we keep more spares than we could ever need.”  
“You’ve given me a fish and a line, an’ I haven’t got anything for you.”  
“You don’t have to-”  
“Tell you what. Next time you’re down this way, have a look for me an’ I’ll have somethin’ for you.”  
Yidra looked at Kerner’s earnest face and his ever-present smile. “All right then.” She agreed. “If I can, I’ll be back down here in two, maybe three days.”  
Saying farewell, the two parted ways. Yidra followed the shore to the north, heading toward home, occasionally looking back to see Kerner wander off along the dunes. She hadn’t made many friends outside the holt, but already Kerner was turning out to be the most interesting of them. Perhaps the elder otters were wrong. Kerner certainly wasn’t violent or sneaky, just hungry. Despite this, he seemed to have an unstoppable optimism. Even though he was scruffy, he was certainly a bit handsome.  
“Handsome?” Yidra thought to herself. “Where did that come from?”  
*  
“Yidra. Yidra! The scones are burning!”   
“Huh?” Yidra came to her senses and saw the thin trails of smoke escaping from the oven. She pulled open the door and reached for the tray.  
“Use an oven-cloth, dear. Do you want to burn your paws?”  
“Right.” Yidra grabbed a thick rag and picked up the tray, setting it down on the kitchen tabletop and fanning away the smoke. “A little burnt, but they’ll be fine.”  
Her mother sighed. “Where has your head been, young’un? These past two days you’ve been drifting off all the time. Are you feeling ill?” She put a paw to Yidra’s head to feel for a fever.  
“I’m fine, Ma,” she ducked out of her mother’s grasp. “Just thinking about where I’ll go tomorrow.”  
“If your paws wandered as much as your head you’d have gone ‘round the world by now.”  
Yidra shrugged and started placing the scones onto a serving plate. She had been thinking about Kerner again, that little beggar-stoat. His entire demeanor, particularly that silly little half-grin he constantly wore, had lodged in her mind. She felt sorry for him. He had a rough life, no family, no real home, but she admired that it didn’t seem to put him down at all. Maybe she could bring him more supplies, or at the very least a shirt.  
She left the kitchen and walked around the central cavern of the holt, trying to clear her head. Some of the pups were running around, playing a game of their own devising. Yidra scooped one of them into her arms and joined in the running, chasing, and yelling. At some point, the game devolved into tackling, and when Yidra tired of it, she tickled a few of the pups into submission and left them in a giggling pile on the floor.  
Returning to her family’s cave, she went over to her own corner and collapsed on her pile of bedding for an afternoon nap. “I’ll see him tomorrow,” she thought to herself as she curled up. “I’ll see him and his stupid little grin.”   
*  
It was almost like she had to sneak out of the hold as she had done in her younger days.   
Yidra was in the holt’s storage cave. She had picked up a satchel and was filling the bag with a few basic supplies that she intended to give to Kerner, including an extra shirt she had managed to dig out of a pile of unused clothing. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. The things it the storage room were there for those who needed them, and Yidra needed them to give to Kerner: a shirt, an extra fishing line and hook, a small knife, flint and steel, a canteen, bandages, and a blanket. It wasn’t much, but they were small and light. If he needed to travel, he could take it all with him by wrapping it in the blanket and carrying it like a sack. Nobeast would question her having these things with her, nor would they likely notice they were missing from storage. In a holt with more than a hundred adult otters, things got moved around quite a bit. However, there would be questions about what she needed those things for and where she was going, questions she would prefer not to answer. The storage cave wasn’t far from the main entrance to the holt. All she had to do was get there without being stopped.  
She looked both ways outside of the storage cave. Seeing no other beasts, she took a few steps.  
“Hey Yidra!”   
Yidra winced and turned about to look at her brothers, Nifel and Muspel, two little ottercub twins about half her age.   
“Where ya going, Yidra?” they asked simultaneously.   
“Just going out for a walk,” she said, continuing toward the entrance.  
“Can we come with ya?” Nifel asked, following behind her.   
“No, I can’t keep my eyes on both of you.”  
“Whadda ya need all that stuff for?” Muspel asked, looking at the bag Yidra was carrying.  
“Because…because I might need it. Now you two run along. I bet you have chores to do.”  
“Don’t wanna do chores. Wanna go with you.”  
“Well, you can’t. So stay behind and help Mum and Dad.”  
The otter twins looked at each other deviously. “Maybe we should tell them ‘bout you taking all that stuff.”  
Yidra stopped and looked back at them. “And maybe I should tell Mum which two otters it was that misplaced her largest mixing bowl, pretending it was a boat sailing on the high seas.”  
Nifel and Muspel scowled and walked back to the main cavern. Yidra smiled to herself as she exited out onto the beach. Mutual blackmail was not an uncommon event when dealing with her brothers. She figured she had safely bought their silence for the day.  
Heading south, Yidra walked until she reached the spot where she had met Kerner. There she sat and waited. After a short while, she heard voices nearby. To be safe, she crawled on her belly up the nearby dune until she was able to peak over the top and look around. In the distance, she could see Kerner with three others: two rats and a particularly fat weasel. Kerner and one of the rats were shouting at each other, but they were too far away for Yidra to hear what they were saying. Their argument seemed to reach its peak and the rat swiped at Kerner, who jumped back, clutching his shoulder. Kerner shouted something at the rat and the trio of vermin walked off away from him.  
Kerner lifted his paw, looked at his shoulder, and the grasped it again before walking in Yidra’s direction. Yidra could tell that he was hurt. She slid down the dune and quickly walked over to him.  
“Oh, hi,” Kerner said when he saw her approaching, his half-smile appearing as she drew closer.   
“Who were those other creatures?” Yidra demanded.  
Kerner shrugged with one arm. “Just some friends.”  
“One of them clawed you!”  
“We had a disagreement.”  
“My friends and I have disagreements,” Yidra protested. “We’ve never hit each other. Now let me see that wound.”  
“It’s nothing. It’ll heal on its own.”  
Yidra immediately turned into her mother. “You let me see that right now, young stoat.”  
Kerner sheepishly removed his paw. The cut on his shoulder wasn’t terribly deep or long, but it was bleeding profusely. Yidra went to work, wrapping one of the bandages she brought over and around his shoulder and tying it securely.  
“There,” she said when she was finished. “That will do.”  
Kerner experimentally moved his arm around, rotating his shoulder, checking his range of motion.  
“Keep it still if you can,” Yidra cautioned. “The bandage is durable, but it won’t hold up if you get into another fight.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kerner said. “Thanks. It seems you can’t stop helping me.”  
“You’ve got no family, no home. You kind of need it,” Yidra replied, unshouldering her bag. “I’ve brought you these as well.”   
Kerner fished though the bag, his eyes widened when he saw all of the things Yidra had brought him. He shook his head. “I can’t take all of this. This is too much. You can’t give me this much.”  
“No one at home will even miss them. It’s all extras or stuff no one uses.”  
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”   
“I said that it’s fine,” Yidra insisted with a note of finality in her voice.   
“If…” Kerner said with uncertainty, “if you’re certain.”  
“Yes! The only thing I need back is the bag, but you can wrap it all in the blanket and carry that.”  
Kerner emptied the bag out onto the blanket, looking at all of his new possessions, carefully examining each one. “I’ll keep them safe,” he promised. “Wouldn’t want you to take any more for me.” He stopped, suddenly remembering. He fished around in his pockets, searching for something. “I got this for you. It’s not really useful, ‘specially not like all this stuff, and it hardly makes up for all this.” He held up a shiny piece of black rock. “Found this on the shore ‘while ago. Dunno where it came from, but I gave it a scrub an’ it looked nice. Careful though. ‘Tis a bit sharp on one side.”  
Yidra took the obsidian and examined it. It was indeed very shiny; she could nearly see her reflection in it. “It’s beautiful. I’ll keep it at my home. And don’t you dare worry about all this. It’s a gift, not a loan.”  
Kerner looked away, embarrassed. “You’re so nice to me. An’ I can’t do anything for you.”  
“You’ve been my friend, I’d say that’s a pretty good start.”   
“Not much of a friend if I can’t help you-”  
“Stop that! You don’t need to do anything for me. Just take care of yourself, and maybe stay away from those others. Anybeast who hurts you doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”  
“It’s not like I choose to be around them,” Kerner scoffed, “they just sort of find me. Want me to be part of their gang, I think.”  
“Well, don’t.” Yidra said. “You don’t need them. You’re better than those vermin.”  
Kerner looked at her with twinkling eyes. “Vermin, eh? They’re the vermin, not me?”  
“Well…I mean…” Yidra sputtered, flustering as she fought to find words. “You’re nice, and kind. Those others seem rotten.”  
“I’m glad you think so,” Kerner smiled. “Mum and Pa tried to raise me right.”  
“They did a good job.” Yidra gathered herself and prepared to depart. “Have you been eating well?”  
“Thanks to you, yeah. Better than I have in a long time.” He walked alongside her as she began to head north. “Will I see you again soon?”  
“I hope so,” Yidra said. “I can’t come down this way too often. The others will wonder where I’m going, but I’ll come when I can.”  
“I’ll watch for you.”  
“Oh, probably don’t come too far north near our holt. The others, they don’t really…that is, I don’t think they like-”  
“Vermin?” Kerner finished Yidra’s thought.   
“You aren’t vermin!” Yidra insisted.   
“I’ve been called far worse,” Kerner informed her. “Names aren’t going to hurt me.”  
“True, but otters might. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”   
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” Kerner promised.  
*  
One Week Later  
The cluster of rocks near the holt were the perfect place to relax on a warm, summer day. The sun beating down on the shore made the rocks comfortably warm, the perfect place for young otters to sit and do nothing. Yidra and her friends Nahia and Eira were there, sunning themselves as they lay draped over the hot stones.   
“Come on Yidra,” Nahia begged, “tell us who it is.”  
Her two friends had been pestering her about her behavior from the past few days. Yidra tried to play ignorant.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Her friends were having none of it. “You’ve been daydreaming all the time, smiling for no reason, disappearing for hours on ‘walks.’ You’re obviously after some male.” Eira insisted. “Tell us who it is.”  
“There isn’t anybeast,” Yidra claimed. “You two are just being silly.”  
“Is it Halvar?” Nahia squealed. “I wish he’d notice me.”  
Yidra couldn’t resist being drawn into their prattle. “The only thing Halvar notices is his reflection. He thinks he’s nature’s gift to otterkind.”  
“He’s got such amazing muscles,” Nahia pined.  
“Which he’s sure to point out to any female he makes eye-contact with.” Yidra said dismissively.   
“What about Karé?” Eira suggested. “He’s not at all bad to look at.”  
Yidra rolled her eyes. “You know very well that he isn’t interested in females.”  
Eira sighed. “I can have dreams, can’t I?”  
“Well wake up,” Yidra said, standing up to go. “There isn’t a male. You two are just being silly.”  
As she walked away, she remembered when she was younger and her mother would tell her that lies made her whiskers grow.   
“If that was true,” Yidra thought to herself, “my whiskers would be hanging down to the ground.”  
*  
“What happened to you?” Yidra exclaimed.  
She had gone to meet Kerner again, in secret of course, to spend some time with him. When he had arrived at their normal meeting place, she was shocked at his appearance. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut and his knuckles were caked with dried blood. It was obvious he had been in a fight, but he nonetheless wore his typical half-smile.  
“Did those friends of yours do this? I thought I told you to stay away from them.”  
“Ain’t much I could do to help it.” Kerner said as Yidra fussed over his injuries. “They know I live around here, so they keep finding me. ‘S not like I go looking for ‘em.”  
“I hope you at least made them regret it. Gave them a few wounds to remember you by.”  
“They’ve a few less teeth between ‘em. Probably won’t be keen on seeing me ‘gain any time soon. Ow!” he winced as Yidra prodded at his chest.  
“You’ve got a few bruised ribs. They’ll heal on their own, but you must. Stop. Fighting,” she emphasized.   
“I keep sayin’ I don’t go lookin’ for ‘em. If I try to leave they’ll just follow me.”  
“Maybe you should make it look like you’ve left the coast. Stay in your home for a few days; make it look like you’ve gone.”  
A sudden gust of wind cut off their conversation. The air grew colder, and the stiff wind tossed Yidra’s cloak about like a flag. The days had been growing cooler as of late. Summer was nearing its end. A torrent of rain fell from the grey sky. Night was nearly upon them.   
“We should probably find shelter,” Yidra called out over the gale. “My home is too far.”  
“Mine isn’t. Follow me.”  
Yidra took off her cloak and placed it on Kerner.  
“What are you doing? You’ll get soaked.”  
“Otter fur,” she said, stroking her dense coat. “Outer layer keeps the inner layer dry. I’ll be fine. You don’t even have a shirt on.”  
“Didn’t want to get it dirty.” Kerner smiled and grabbed Yidra’s paw, leading her off through the dunes as they ran through the pounding rain. By the time they reached Kerner’s dwelling, the cloak was soaked through and the young stoat’s fur was equally drenched.   
Yidra looked around the small hill, failing to find an entrance to a cave or any other sort of shelter.   
“This way,” Kerner led her around to the other side to a pair of massive boulders jammed up together. There was only a narrow gap between them. Anybeast who didn’t know it was there wouldn’t have noticed it or thought to attempt entering. Being naturally skinny, Kerner slid easily between the boulders. Following behind him, Yidra forced her way through the gap, nearly becoming stuck several times in the narrow pass. At the end of the gap was a cave with a sandy floor. The interior was sparse: no furniture, no bed, not even a stool, only a pile of sailcloth as well as all the items Yidra had given to Kerner. There was a hole in the ceiling directly above a small firepit, forming a natural chimney.   
“No chance of a fire,” Kerner lamented as he gazed at the damp kindling.   
Yidra took her cloak from him and hung it up on a root poking out from the cave wall. Shaking vigorously, she rid herself of much of the water clinging to her fur. Despite her soaked clothing, she felt warm and comfortable. Across the cave, Kerner was toweling himself off with the shirt Yidra had given him.   
“You can sleep on the bed,” he nodded toward the pile of sailcloth as he continued to dry himself, wringing out the shirt when it became overburdened with water. “Only room for one. I can sleep on the ground.”  
“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Yidra said.   
“I’ve slept in worse places.” Kerner said, tossing aside the thoroughly inundated shirt-towel. He flicked a few small rocks and stones away from him and flatted the sandy ground into a level patch. He stretched out, yawned, and the curled up on the ground.  
Yidra lay down on the sailcloth as the last vestiges of light disappeared. The sailcloth wasn’t much of a bed, nothing like the soft blankets back at the holt. It was rough against her fur and left much to be desired in terms of warmth, but the run to Kerner’s home had left her tired, and sleep arrived not long after she closed her eyes.  
Awaking in the middle of the night, Yidra looked around to find the source of the noise which had disturbed her. She could see faintly in the dark cave thanks to the moonlight streaming down through the hole in the roof. Kerner was lying in the middle of the cave, curled up in a ball, his arms clutching his chest, teeth chattering.  
Yidra slid out from the sailcloth bed and crawled over to him. She gently stroked his fur and found he was still wet. He hadn’t gotten properly dry before lying down. Sleeping on the cold ground didn’t help him either. The poor stoat was freezing in his sleep and didn’t even realize it.   
Moving quietly, Yidra pulled the sailcloth over, shook out some of the loose sand, and laid it over Kerner and herself. She pressed close to the stoat and wrapped an arm around him, trying to use her own heat to warm him up. She had done this before with her own siblings when they couldn’t get warm after a long swim in the cold ocean.   
“Hmm?” Kerner murmured, still half-asleep. “Yidra?”  
“Hush,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”   
The stoat lowered his head back to the ground. He sighed contently as Yidra settled in next to him, the streaming moonlight reflecting off the teeth exposed by his grin.  
Kerner woke first in the morning when a ray of sunlight pushed through the entryway to his cave at shone onto his eyes. He was puzzled when he realized Yidra was sleeping next to him with her arm around his middle, resting her chin on his head, holding him in place like a cub with their favorite toy. He couldn’t turn around to face her without waking her, but he could hear her lightly snoring, deep within her own slumber. Settling back down, he started to doze even as the sun rose.   
“No harm lettin’ her sleep,” Kerner thought to himself, enjoying the warmth. “B’sides, she’s prob’ly as comfy as me.”   
When the sun had risen even further, Yidira awoke and sat bolt upright, sending Kerner sprawling.   
“I’ve got to get home!” she exclaimed, pulling on her still damp cloak. “Mum and Pa will be so worried after I didn’t come home last night.”  
Kerner pushed himself up, ready to go. “I’ll come with you.” He saw the look of uncertainty flash across Yidra’s face. “You don’t know this part of the coastland. You need a guide. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of sight.”  
Yidra pushed herself out of the narrow gap with Kerner following close behind. They went along at a brisk pace over and around the dunes, making good progress to the northwest. They had gone several miles and were only a few more from her holt. She thought she might make it back in time for lunch, though she knew she’d probably miss it getting a talking-to from her parents about responsibility or promptness or other such nonsense.   
What would she tell them when she got back? Where had she been? She had been out walking the beach when the storm swept in, of course. She had found shelter and spent the night there. What kind of shelter? Half of an old dinghy, washed up on the coast. She had crawled underneath and slept there. Why was she back home so late in the day? Simple, she had overslept and hadn’t felt the sun rising.   
“Anything else?” she asked herself internally. “What else would they ask me?”  
Yidra’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the top of a dune. “Oi, Kern!”  
Yidra and Kerner stopped as the two rats and weasel Yidra has seen with Kerner before slid down the dune. The rat who seemed to be in charge stepped forward swaggering in a way that reminded Yidra of some of the overconfident young male otters from the holt.  
The morning had become overcast, but the rat nonetheless looked about with his eyes half shut. “Kern! So nice to see you again,” he said, spreading his arms wide and greeting Kerner like they were the best of friends. “Kern, me ol’ mate. I’ve been lookin’ all over for yas ev’ since yesterday.” He strutted closer with a cocky note to his voice. “Aft’r everythin’ that ‘appened I wanted t’ make sure you was a’right.”  
“As you can see, I’m doin’ fine, Squinty.” Kerner said. The stoat was still smiling his normal smile, but his eyes were glaring at Squinty the rat.  
Squinty’s eyes darted between Yidra and Kerner. “I see, I see. Well tha’s good, mate. Tha’s real good. See, I jus’ wanted t’ make sure there was no hard feelin’s ‘tween us.”   
Yidra could tell Squinty absolutely did not care if there were hard feelings between Kerner and himself.  
The rat continued. “I was sayin’ to Twitch and Bogg jus’ now, I was sayin’ to ‘em: ‘Boys, tha’ Kern is a good lad. There’s a stoat tha’ll come through for you.’ Wasn’t I jus’ sayin’ that to you, boys?”  
The other rat and the fat weasel smiled toothy grins and nodded. Yidra noticed that the rat was slightly shaking uncontrollably. She deduced that the rat was Twitch and the weasel was Bogg. She didn’t see any weapons in their paws, but they could have been carrying something in the belts behind their backs. “Well, Twitch might,” Yidra thought, doubting Bogg could even reach his back.  
“So anyways,” Squinty went on, “I was jus’ wonderin’ if you had a chance t’ think over what I said t’ you yesterday.”   
“My answer is still the same,” Kerner half growled, still managing to hold his smile. “I’m not getting involved with your stupid plan. I value my own hide more than that.”  
Squinty was frowning now. “Oh tha’s a shame, mate. If’n it was you who needed help, I’d be right there t’ help ya. Still, I s’pose it can’t be helped.” His eyes shifted to Yidra. “Who’s your friend? Nice piece o’ tail is she?” He reached a paw toward you was if to stroke her cheek.   
Yidra intercepted his paw before he could reach her. “Young sir,” she said, struggling to remain polite, “please keep your paws to yourself. I’ve no idea where they’ve been.” Her voice lowered. “I would hate to do you an injury.” She threw his paw down.  
Squinty laughed. “Ooo! D’ya hear that, boys. ‘Do me an inj’ry.’ Proper saucy little ottermaid, eh? Bet yer popular back home.” He reached up to touch her again.  
Back in the holt, it was said that otters exceled at three things, all of which started with “F.” The first was fishing, the second was feasting, and the third was fighting. (There was a crude joke which involved a fourth activity, but it wasn’t told when young cubs were about.) Males and females both from a young age learned how to hold their own in paw-to-paw combat. Naturally rambunctious, ottercubs practiced plenty, much to the chagrin of anybeast serving as healer.   
Yidra’s clenched fist darted out and back before anybeast could fully register what happened, but there was an audible crack and Squinty staggered backwards, clutching at his muzzle as a steady stream of blood began draining from his nostrils.  
“Aagh. Yew stubbid bish! Yew brooke mah nuse.”  
“I did warn you, sir.” Yidra stated, indifferent to the rat’s injury.  
“Gaaah. Teesh ‘er a lessin’, boys!”  
Twitch and Boggs took a step forward, but Yidra’s icy glare froze them in their tracks.   
“You,” she said, pointing at Twitch the rat, “I will pound down so hard those shakes finally stop. And you,” she looked at Bogg in all his corpulence, “I’ll send you rolling so far you won’t stop ‘til you’ve hit the other side of the ocean.” She grabbed Kerner’s paw and pulled him off behind her until Squinty’s moans had faded in the distance.  
“Yidra. Yidra, slow down a bit.” Kerner begged.   
Yidra realized she was practically dragging Kerner and let go of his paw. “Sorry,” she said. “Those…those…”  
“Vermin?” Kerner offered.  
“Villains.” Yidra spat out, ignoring Kerner’s laughter. “Those villains just made my blood boil.” She thought about what she had done and her whisker’s drooped. “I hope I haven’t made things more difficult for you. They’ll probably be angrier with you now.”  
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’d say you’ve bought at least a few days of peace before we do it all over again.”  
“Thinking of those three harassing you infuriates me. And such terrible names. Squinty, Twitch, and that weasel, Bogg.”  
“Twitch is the weasel.”   
Yidra looked at him with a hint of suspicion. “You’re joking.”  
“Sadly, no. Glad I’m not the only beast who thinks it’s weird.” Kerner shuffled his footpaws. “That was amazing, what you did. Just one punch. Not seen anythin’ like that before.”  
“Well, actually, that was an accident. I only meant to bloody his nose. Guess otters are made of tougher stuff than rats.”  
“Absolutely,” Kerner agreed. “You’re incredible.”  
They both stood silently as the wind blew across the sand.  
“I really do need to be getting back home. My parents will be furious by now.”  
“Suspect they won’t let you outta sight for ‘while?”   
Yidra’s whisker’s drooped again. “Summer is nearly over,” she said, feeling the chill in the wind. The holts going to need all paws on deck, bringing in as much food as we can before the fish all swim off to warmer waters. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away again before winter.”  
Kerner sighed. “When winter comes, I might be away. Down south or somewhere warmer.” He started chuckling. “Unless you fancy dressin’ me up like an otter.” He looked at his brush-like tail. “Ain’t got much of a rudder, though.”  
“But you’ll come back when winter is done, right?”  
“Of course I will. You ain’t getting’ rid o’ me that easily.”  
“Stick around until the snow starts falling. I’ll come and see you when I can.” Yidra turned to begin the sad march to the holt.  
“Yidra?”  
She turned back around and Kerner stood up on the tips of his footpaws and kissed her cheek.   
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for everything you’ve done to help me. Don’t think I’d still be here if it weren’t for you.”  
Yidra pulled him into an embrace, fighting back tears both happy and sad. “You take care of yourself. Start storing up food for yourself. And start wearing a shirt. You’ll catch nothing but colds like that.”  
Fearing she’d break down completely if she tried to say goodbye, Yidra turned and left, looking back to see Kerner watching her from the crest of a dune.  
It was well past lunchtime when Yidra returned home. She found her parents pacing angrily in front of the hold.   
“An’ just where have you been Yidrassil Seadog?” her mother scolded.  
“Full name, I really am in trouble,” Yidra thought to herself, lost in a mental sea of bliss and sorrow.  
“Your mother and I have spent the night and morning worrying.” Her father added. “There had better be a good reason-”  
“Walking. Storm. Shelter.” She said airily as she walked right by them. “Overslept. Responsibility. Discipline. Promptness. Fish harvest starts tomorrow. Hungry now. Getting food.”  
Her mother stood with her mouth half-open, unable to articulate a response. She looked to her husband, gesturing for him to say something on her behalf. He only shrugged. “She’s got us there.”  
*  
“Here they come!” the fish-spotter yelled from his raft. “A whole shoal! A big one!”  
A line of otters stood waist-deep in the ocean, each one grasping a rope in his or her paws. Yidra stood among them, her footpaws braced against a convenient underwater rock. Even with her insulating outer coat, her legs were starting to go numb. She had been standing in the ocean since morning, waiting for the fish to arrive.   
“Chasers get ready!” The spotter yelled. Further out in the water, more otters prepared to dive from their own small rafts. It was their job to chase the approaching fish toward the nets of the haulers. Everyone had a tough job to do, but a successful haul could mean weeks of food for the winter.   
The spotter held up his paw, signaling that the fish had passed him and were inside the catch zone. At the opposite end, the second spotter kept his eyes focused on the waves, watching the subtle signs that only otters recognized. He was waiting for the fish to reach the end of the catch zone. By waiting, he was ensuring that as many fish as possible were available to catch. The spotter was tense; the right time could come at any moment. He couldn’t afford to blink. Yidra thought he would wait forever, but finally his call went out:  
“Go!”  
From their rafts out among the waves, the chasers dove into the water with little more than a ripple. Yidra could feel a change in the ocean as the mob of fish altered their course to avoid the predators in the water. Any second now it would be her turn.  
“Pull!” shouted both spotters at the same time.  
Yidra and the other three otters on her hauling team pulled with all their might, digging in so as not to be hauled off by the collective force of all the fish, struggling to free themselves from the constricting nets. Up and down the shore, scores of otters were fighting similar battles.  
Fighting against the fish, the haulers moved closer together, pulling the corners of the net closed. The sea churned around them. A sudden wave struck Yidra in the face, threatening to tip her off balance, but she spat the salty spray from her mouth and shook the water from her face. Standing firm, the haulers lining the shore stood in place, waiting for the fish to exhaust themselves before they hauled them out of the sea.   
“Hold on! We’ve almost got’em!” shouted Fisken, the senior member of Yidra’s group. As if in response, the fish gave one final burst that nearly tore the rope of Yidra’s grasp, but at last the fish submitted, and the haulers began their march out of the surf. When the net was resting safely on the sand, all four otters collapsed, gasping for breath. Up and down the beach on either side, other otters were doing the same.  
“Never…again.” Nahia, Yidra’s friend, panted as she crawled up to her. “From now on, I’m sleeping through the winter. You can wake me when it’s spring again.”  
This had been the third haul of the season, and they never got any easier.  
“Come on dearies, work isn’t done.” Fisken grabbed a pawful of netting. “Got to get this to the cooks for smoking and preserving.”  
The otters all grabbed part of the net and started dragging. A cold wind sprang up that made them all shiver. None of the otters had much clothing on, only the smallclothes meant to be worn while swimming. They did nothing for warmth in or out of the water, and Yidra was looking forward to finding a dry towel, putting on her thickest clothes, and sitting next to a roaring fire.   
After they deposited their net of fish with the cooks, they returned to the main cavern where the rest of the haulers had gathered.  
“Good job today,” called Colborn, the holt leader. He was grey-furred, but still strong enough to keep up with the rest of the haulers. “A few more hauls like that an’ Holt Warmspring be all set for the winter. Now who here is ready to go out again first thing tomorrow morning?”  
A few enthusiastic cheers answered him, accompanied by a number of jeers, insults, and personal remarks about Colborn.  
“I love you all too,” he smiled. “Now go an’ get cleaned up. Last thing we want is a holt full of otters what smell like fish. Ladies go first.”  
Yidra walked with the rest of the female haulers through the winding passages to the back of the holt’s cave network. At the end of the tunnel was the namesake and greatest treasure of the holt: a flowing spring which brought up heated water from somewhere deep beneath the earth. Countless seasons before, the holt’s founders discovered the spring and, with some creative stonework , turned the area near the small bubbling spring into a chamber permanently flooded waist-deep in warm water, draining out through a small hole in the wall.   
Yidra leaned against the walls and sunk down into the water, letting the heat soak in. She took no part in the splash-battle which started around her, choosing to sit and relax as the salt and sea-grime sloughed from her body. She was fully content to sit in silence and enjoy the warmth, but her friends Nahia and Eira were in a talking mood as they sat down on either side of her.  
“So is he from another holt?” Eira asked, clearly in a gossiping mood.   
“Is who?”  
“Whatever male it is you’ve fallen for. He has to be from another holt, right?” Nahia said. “You haven’t been able to go anywhere since the fish-haul began, so you haven’t been able to see him.”  
“That explains why you’ve been so grumpy.” Eira added.  
It took a moment for Yidra to compose herself. “First of all,” she began, “I have not been grumpy. Second, are you still under the impression I’m part of some sort of…secret romance that I am desperate to hide from you two, my two closest friends?”  
Nahia nodded enthusiastically. Eira shrugged. “Not really, but it’s fun to think about.”  
“Maybe this is a chance to test the waters,” Yidra thought. “If I make something up, will you drop it for a while?” she asked her friends.  
“I make no promises,” Nahia said.   
“So what’s this imaginary otter’s name?” Eira asked.  
Yidra dropped her voice so only her friends could hear her. “His name is K…Korben.” There was no point in saying too much.   
“Go on,” Nahia urged. “We need more than a name. What does he look like?”  
“He’s shorter than me by a head, and he’s on the skinny side.”  
“Awww, no bulging muscles.” Nahia was disappointed.  
“Who’s telling this, you or me?” Yidra snipped. After Nahia quieted down, she continued. “He is skinny, but he’s had a difficult life. He’s never had enough to eat. It’s really sort of sad. But he is just so terribly nice and polite. He’s almost always smiling this cute half-grin.”  
“How’d you meet? Eira asked. “What holt is he from?”  
“He’s not from a holt, he just…lives alone. I don’t really know what happened to his family. It seems like a sore subject and I don’t want to upset him. He’ll tell me when he wants to.”  
“Why don’t you bring him here?” Nahia suggested. “Plenty of room for more otters.”  
“He prefers living alone, or at least not with a lot of other creatures.” Yidra lied. “I wish I could bring him here, he’s been having some trouble with a small gang of…vermin.”   
“Why not have Colborn send a few of the guard out to him? They can drive off a few vermin no problem.”  
“He’s dealing with them in his own way,” Yidra explained. “Though I do worry.”  
“Tell me something good,” Nahia begged.   
“Well…” Yidra smiled, “last time we saw each other, before the haul started, we spent a night together.”  
Nahia and Eira squealed.   
“It’s not like that, and keep your voices down.” Yidra hissed. “We got caught in the rain and his cave was close by. He got cold at night and I cuddled up to him to keep him warm. That’s it.” Yidra paused. “He did kiss me the next morning when we parted.” Yidra sighed. “He’ll probably end up going south during winter, though. So I might not see him again until then.”  
“Wonderful! When do we get to meet him?” Eira asked, her eyes pleading for an answer.  
“What? No.” Yidra sputtered. “This is all just made up, remember?”  
“I don’t believe you,” Nahia said. “I know fantasies, and this sounds too…normal. You’ve got a secret male out there somewhere. I’m certain of it.”  
“Regardless of what Colborn says, we probably won’t have another haul for a few days. Why not bring us to meet him?”  
Yidra pulled herself out of the water, walked to the towel rack, and began drying herself. “We’re all busy tomorrow and every day after,” she reminded her friends as they got up to follow her. “Nadia, you’re meeting with Marm Solvi to get things ready for winter lessons for the cubs. Eira, it’s your week in the infirmary starting tomorrow. I’m sure Mum will keep me busy in the kitchen, or else I’ll be minding Nifel and Muspel.”  
“Oh acorns, that’s right,” Nadia huffed, remembering her duties as assistant teacher. “But sometime you have to let us meet him. I want to see the otter who finally caught your attention.”  
“The moment this otter becomes real, I’ll do that,” Yidra promised. Fully dry, she wrapped herself in a clean dressing gown and headed to her family’s cave. She felt dreadfully tired after the hard hours in the ocean. After finding some thick, warm clothes, she built a pile of blankets on top of herself and started her nap, hoping that there’d be a dream or two of Kerner before she woke.   
*  
The frozen sand crackled beneath Yidra’s footpaws as she ran along the beach, tiny crystals of ice flying in her wake. Every breath turned to fog, rising up into the cold skies before vanishing in the ephemeral sunlight.   
“Please be there,” Yidra panted as she ran. “Please be there.”  
The snow had come early that year, bringing an end to the fish-harvesting. There was no shortage of work to do at the holt, however, and Yidra hadn’t been able to get away until several days after the snow began.   
Her thick winter cloak flew behind her like a flag caught in a tempest, tossed about as Yidra headed south, hoping to find Kerner.  
She reached the spot on the beach where they would meet. Even after almost a season, she could still see the marks in the sand where her fire had been the day she shared her fish with him.  
But this time, he wasn’t there.  
Yidra knew it wasn’t likely when she had set out from home. Kerner needed to find shelter somewhere, and she couldn’t expect him to stay behind in the hostile cold just because she wanted to see him again. Suppressing a sob, Yidra wiped away an emerging tear with her gloved paw.   
“S’cuse me, missy. Could you spare a fish for a starving young creature?” called a voice from behind her.  
Yidra gasped and spun around. There he was.   
Kerner’s winter coat had mostly grown in, leaving patches of brown on white where it hadn’t fully filled out. Somehow he had acquired a winter cloak of his own, and he seemed to have torn up some of his sailcloth bed to make a scarf and wrappings for his footpaws. And of course he was smiling.   
Dashing to him, Yidra threw her arms around him, holding him like she’d never let go.  
“It’s good to see you too.” He said with a warmth in his voice as sweet as honey. “I’ve been miss-” His voice cut off as Yidra kissed him on the mouth. Kerner had no idea what to do, so he stood there, letting Yidra do as she wished until she pulled away.  
“Sorry,” she said, seeing the stunning look on Kerner’s face. “I got excited seeing you again.”  
Kerner started smiling again. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He held out his paw for Yidra to take. “I’ve got stuff for a fire over yonder. Be a bit warmer there. Though I probably won’t need it if you kisses me like that again.”  
Yidra giggled uncharacteristically as she took Kerner’s paw. Within minutes they were at his woodpile and had a blazing fire roaring. They sat side by side, Kerner leaning into Yidra’s shoulder.  
“I was surprised to find you here,” Yidra said. “I thought you’d have gone south by now. The snow has been down for a while, and it’s only going to get harder and colder before long.”  
“I wanted to see you again,” Kerner smiled. “I was hoping you’d come looking for me. Looks like my hope paid off. I saved up food, gathered wood, did what I could to prepare for the cold. One day I ran into ol’ Squinty. You remember him? Should probably call him Squeaky now. Broken nose did something to his voice. Anyways, he and his two cronies is robbin’ some vole merchants. So I take a lesson from you and gives ‘em a piece of my mind. Didn’t evens get a scratch on me. After I runs ‘em off, voles gives me their thanks as well as some supplies and this cloak. That makes me all properly set up for a while, so I waited for you, and here you are.” He nuzzled Yidra’s neck affectionately.   
Yidra sighed as she leaned into him. “But I suppose you have to be going soon.”  
Kerner nodded sadly. “Just for the winter, though this winter looks like it will be a long one.” He looked into Yidra’s eyes, his green gaze meeting her brown. “I promise I’ll come back. The first birds I see winging it north, I’ll follow ‘em right back here.”  
“And when I see birds coming from the south, I’ll starting looking for you. That’s a promise too.”  
They sat together until the fire began to die, and at last Kerner rose and looked to the south. Yidra stood behind him, trying not to cry.  
She looked into his eyes again. “Goodb-”  
“No,” Kerner stopped her. “See you when spring comes.”  
“See you when spring comes,” Yidra said back to him.  
Kerner smiled and took his first few steps to the south. “Every night, I’ll look at the moon and think of you. You do the same.”  
“Yes.” Yidra said, watching as Kerner disappeared around a dune. It suddenly felt colder. “I love you,” she whispered, mostly to herself.  
“I love you too!” Kerner shouted in the distance, his voice echoing across the frigid beach.  
Yidra fell on the ground, shaking with uncontrollable laughter as tears rolled down her face. Spring could not come soon enough.  
*  
The clifftop above the entrance to the holt was a perfect place to watch the stars. It took an hour to walk from the holt along the path to the very top, but the trip was well worth it. The clifftop was idyllic and peaceful, even in winter, with nothing to make sound save for the wind and the sound of the waves crashing onto the frozen shore. The view from the top was unparalleled, offering a complete view of the horizon from north to south. Seated on the edge, a creature could watch was the sun disappeared and the stars twinkled into existence, but it was not the stars, nor the comets, nor the glowing northern lights which captured Yidra’s interest.   
The moon that night was a pale sliver smile grinning down upon the icy sea, but the moon’s smile was not the smile Yidra wanted to see.  
It was the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, but Yidra felt the winter had been nothing but one long night. Only darkness, with no chance of sunlight until the spring arrived.   
Yidra sighed as she gazed at the moon, thinking of Kerner, wishing he was there with her. Wherever he was, she hoped that he was safe and comfortable. She had heard tales of the southern lands, of the roving bands of vermin, inhospitable deserts, and a thousand other horrible things. Every one of Yidra’s nights was filled with worry, and every day was longing. Only on rare occasions was she focused enough on helping out in the holt to be completely free of thoughts of Kerner.   
The rustling of the bushes behind her tore Yidra’s gaze from the moon, and out from the cliff-side path stepped her mother, wrapped up in warm clothes and a shawl.   
“May I join you, dear?” her mother asked.  
Yidra nodded and turned her gaze back to the sky. Her mother came to the edge and sat next to her, gently stroking her head as she had done when she was only a cub. It was normally very soothing, but it was not enough to calm Yidra’s worries tonight.   
“I’ve seen you coming up here every night,” her mother said. “I wanted to make sure you were well.”  
“I’m fine.” Yidra’s curtly responded.   
Her mother continued to stroke her fur. “Missing your friend?”  
Yidra kept silent as she thought for a moment before responding. “What do you mean, Mum?”  
“This mystery male you’ve been going to see every so often. He’s gone south?”  
“How…?” Yidra sputtered. “How do you know that?”  
“Dear, you told Nahia. You may as well have posted a notice on the cavern wall and had one of the storytellers perform a ballad based on it.”  
Exasperated, Yidra tossed herself backwards onto the snow. “I don’t suppose claiming I made it up will work?”  
“Your mother is a little smarter than that, dear.”  
“I promised him I’d look at the moon every night and think about him,” Yidra admitted. “He said he’d do the same.”  
“That’s sweet of him. You must really care about each other.”  
Yidra brought her paws to her face. “His name is Kerner, not Korben like I told Nahia. He’s like nobeast I’ve ever met. When I first saw him I didn’t trust him at first, but he’s just so….” Words failed her. “He’s had a bad life but he never stops smiling and looking for the silver lining. He’s so kind and selfless, and when I tried to help him I practically had to force him to take the things I was offering. He…he deserves to have a better life, and I want to make sure he gets that. I want him to be truly happy.”  
“He sounds wonderful, Yid. When do your father and I get to meet him?”  
“Oh,” Yidra lay still, her stomach churning as she suddenly realized how much she had said. “I…I don’t know if you and Pa would like him.”  
“Why wouldn’t we like him, dear? He sounds like a fine fellow.”  
“Well…his past is a bit rough.” Yidra struggled to explain. “He got mixed up with some bad beasts and I know he regrets it. He’s also,” Yidra chose her words carefully, “different from our holt.”  
“Yid,” her mother asked calmly, “is he a river otter? ‘Cause it’s not like when your father and I were cubs. Things are different now.”  
Yidra nearly laughed and likely would have if she hadn’t been so nervous. “No Mum, he isn’t a river otter. He’s just…different.”  
Her mother lay down next to her and started talking. “You know, when I first brought your father to meet my parents, they didn’t like him at all. They thought he was impulsive, poorly tempered, and hopelessly stubborn. They didn’t want me to have anything to do with him.”  
“But after they got to know him, they changed their minds about him?” Yidra asked hopefully.   
“Hellgates, no!” Her mother exclaimed. Yidra was shocked to hear her mother use profanity. “They were almost completely right about him. Your father was everything they said. He didn’t think things through, he got into arguments constantly, and he never compromised.”  
“Then how did…”  
“How could I have married him? Behind that impulsiveness, I could see playfulness. Behind the stubbornness, I could see determination. Behind his temper, I could see passion, and he certainly was passionate.”  
“Ewww. Mum.”  
“Oh don’t act so surprised. Yours parents like kissing and stuff. How do you think you got here? Anyway, my parents had a point, but I still loved your father.”  
“So what did you do?”  
“Your father and I talked. He knew he had his flaws, and he worked to even them out a bit. It took time, but he did it eventually. He started to consider his actions before he carried them out, he learned to make compromises, and his temper naturally cooled once he had a wife to keep him in check.”  
“So he completely changed from when you met him?”  
“Not completely, no. He’s still the same otter I fell in love with, just more refined. A little calmer, a little more responsible. Creatures change all throughout their lives, dear. That includes me. I used to be quite the free spirit. I’d spend my days wandering the coast near my family’s holt, avoiding responsibilities and chores.”   
“So what happened?”  
Yidra’s mother shrugged. “I grew up. I had a husband to look after; a home to tend, and soon I had a beautiful cub to look after. There were things to be done, and no other beast was going to do them for me.”  
Yidra lay thinking, staring at the stars. “Mum?”  
“Yes, dear?”  
“Did your parents ever end up liking Pa?”  
“No, they still didn’t like him, despite his improvements, but it turns out they had a grudge against Holt Warmspring for something that happened seasons before either of us were born. Absolutely hated that their daughter would marry some ‘snail-sucking spring spawn’.”  
“So what happened when it came time to marry him?”  
“I told them were they could shove their opinions, moved to Holt Warmspring, and married him anyway. Why do you think we never visit my parents?”  
“I’m pretty sure you said they were dead.”  
“I lied,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Parents can be a very good source of advice, Yid, but in the end, you have to make your own decisions, even if it means others you care about don’t like it. If your heart is set on something, sometimes all you can do is follow it, for better or worse.” She looked over at her daughter next to her. “You’re a wonderful young otter, Yid. You’re twice as responsible and hard-working as I was at your age. I trust you to make good decisions, most of the time anyway. I can’t promise I’ll like this love of yours, but as long as he’s a decent creature who treats you well, I’ll be happy for you.”  
“You promise, Mum?”  
“I promise. Can you promise me something, Yid?”  
“What is it, Mum?”  
“Promise that I’ll get to meet him at least once before you marry him.”  
Yidra cuddled close to her mother. “We’ll see, Mum. We’ll see.”  
“Now, tell me more about him,” her mother insisted. “Are the rippling muscles accurate, or did Nahia make that up?”   
“Muuuuuuum!”  
“And you did kiss him, right? How was it?”  
“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum!”  
*  
Yidra sat just within the holt’s gaping entrance, listening to the drip-drip-drip of the melting snow on the stone floor. Anybeast passing by would hear the drip-drip-drip accompanied by the snik-snik-snik of Yidra’s knitting needles. Sewing and knitting were not activities Yidra was particularly fond of, but she found they helped her pass the time and kept her from being dragged into an eternal melancholy. Her current project had started as a scarf, though it had grown enough to be a shawl or small blanket.   
Knowledge of Yidra’s mysterious suitor’s existence was now common. As such, once the snow started melting, Nahia and Eira had been asking her when she was going to meet Kerner.   
It took a great deal of effort on Yidra’s part to keep herself from dashing off to the south when the weather turned warm, so she sat and stayed, remembering to wait for the birds to fly north.   
A pattering of small paws informed Yidra she was not alone with her knitting. “Nifel, Muspel,” she said without turning around, “what do you want?”  
Both young otters had begun to grow up a little during the winter and had matured mentally as well, no longer acting as childish as they once had, but they still enjoyed teasing their older sister more than anything.  
“Going to go see your friend soon?” Nifel asked.  
“I hope so,” Yidra answered patiently.  
“Going to kiss him when you see him?” Muspel asked.  
“Probably.”  
“That’s gross,” they both said.  
“You’re not going to be kissing him, why do you care?”  
“Why d’you wanna kiss him?” Nifel asked, now batting as the loose end of Yidra’s knitting.  
“Because he’s special to me.”  
“When are you going to see him?” Muspel asked, tossing around a ball of yarn.  
“He said he’d come north again when the birds start flying back from their winter homes.”  
“Birds like those?” Nifel pointed up at the sky.  
Yidra stood and looked up at the distant dark shapes moving across the sky. A few minutes later, the figures became more distinct, and she could hear the geese honking as their “V” flew overhead.   
“Boys,” Yidra’s mother called from inside, “there are plenty of pots to scrub if you have nothing to do.”  
Nifel and Muspel disappeared into the holt, running down a side tunnel away from their mother and their chores.   
Yidra felt her mother come to stand beside her and watch as the last of the geese flew off to the north.   
“He’ll be back soon, then?” she asked, already knowing the answer.  
Yidra nodded. “Not for a few days. Even if he started as soon as the birds began flying, it would take at least a week to get here from the southern lands.”  
Her mother handed her a pack. “Everything you’ll need for at least a week: Tent canvas, groundsheet, preserved nuts and berries, blanket, fishing lines, and fire starting kit. If you need to stay longer, you know how to live off the land and sea.”  
“Mum,” Yidra took the pack,” are you sure? I have chores to do-”  
“They’ll be taken care of,” her mother interrupted. “I’m sure Nahia and Eira will volunteer to help a good cause. Though they’ll probably want details when you get back. So will I, for that matter.”  
“Mum!”  
“I just want to make sure my daughter is in good paws.”  
Yidra shouldered the pack and hugged her mother. “Thanks Mum. You’re the best. I love you.”  
The ottermum watched her daughter dashing off to the south, smiling at her enthusiasm. A pattering of small paws informed her that she was not alone.  
“Nifel, Muspel!” she shouted into the cavern at her unseen cubs, “if you try following her I’ll have you washing every pot and pan in the holt, twice!”  
*  
Yidra tried to keep her expectations reasonably realistic as she set up camp. She knew full well it would take some time before Kerner could get back to her. Indeed, he did not appear during the first week she was at her campsite. She continued to work on her knitting, finishing her first blanket in a few days and beginning work on the second one.  
On the fourth night of the second week, Yidra sat outside, looking up at the moon as she had done every night since Kerner had gone south. She had been staying up late the past several nights and getting up with the sunrise every day, hoping to spot Kerner the moment he appeared on the horizon. As a consequence of her abbreviated sleeping patterns, she felt exhausted. Her eyelids soon began to droop as the stars circled overhead, and at last she fell asleep not long after midnight.  
A loud crackling from her campfire woke Yidra. It was still dark out, and she had no idea how long she had been asleep. She pushed herself back into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision. Then she saw him, sitting across from her on the other side of the fire, looking at her and smiling. The winter coat he had been growing when he left had all but gone, leaving a few patches of white on brown like snow on the soil.  
“Am I dreaming?” she asked aloud as her heart pounded.  
“I hope not,” Kerner said. “That would mean I’m not here.”  
Yidra caught him in a hug that sent the pair of them sprawling into the sand.  
“I’ve missed you too,” Kerner said, laughing at Yidra’s excitement.  
“I’ve missed you so much. I thought about you every night, like I said I would.”  
“So did I, both day and night.”  
“When did you get here?” Yidra asked.  
“About an hour ago, I think. I’ve been walking all day and part of the night for days now.”  
“An hour! Why didn’t you wake me up!” Yidra demanded.  
“You looked tired,” Kerner explained. “And you’re so cute when you sleep.”  
“I suppose I’ll forgive you then,” Yidra teased as she settled in next to Kerner. “Tell me about your trip. Where did you go?”  
“Followed the shore as far as I could. Kept going until it got warmer. ‘ventually the beach turned into cliffs. Headed inland from there an’ kept an eye out for a good place to settles. Found myself on a farm run by this old vole fella. Nearly completely blind. Told ‘im I was an otter looking for food. Said he’d feed me if I worked on his farm. So I set up there, slept in the barn, worked on fixin’ things, plowin’ soil, picking lettuce an’ winter carrots. Wasn’t difficult work, but he fed me well.”  
Yidra looked at Kerner and noticed that he had filled out his tunic nicely since he had left; he looked stronger and healthier as well.   
“How about you? What’s been going on in your home?”  
“Umm…” Yidra shifted about. “I sort of told a few friends and my mother about us.”  
Kerner’s ears perked up. “And what did they say?”  
“They don’t know you’re a stoat; they all think you’re an otter, and I haven’t told them otherwise. Nahia and Eira, my friends, like to use it as gossip material. My mum, she said she would be happy for me as long as I found a nice male, but I’m not certain how far she’d go on that.”  
Kerner put his arm around her. “Why don’t you tell them? Are you embarrassed to love a stoat?” he asked gently.  
“No,” Yidra denied, leaning into Kerner even more. “I’m scared.”  
“Scared of what?”  
“Scared of what will happen. I want my family and friends to like you, but they don’t know you like I do and might just see a stoat and write you off as vermin. And I’m scared because I love my holt and I love you, and if it came between them and you, I know I’d choose you, but I don’t want to lose my family.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”  
Kerner didn’t know what he could say to comfort his beloved. He could only hold her and gently rock her as she cried.   
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed when she was out of tears. “I should be happy to see you, but I have to go and get upset-”  
“Shhh.” Kerner quieted her. “You’re tired. Let’s sleep.”  
“Come into my tent,” Yidra sniffled. “I want you next to me.”  
“So do I,” Kerner agreed.  
They slept deeply until well after sunrise, lying together as they had more than a season before: Yidra clutching Kerner as an ottercub held a toy. Kerner was quite comfortable in his position, enjoying the warmth of Yidra’s head resting on top of his. He tilted his head up and kissed her on the chin. “I love you,” he said as Yidra woke. She kissed the top of head in return. “I love you too.”  
Kerner sat up and adopted a more serious tone. “I’m going back to my cave an’ make sure nothing has moved in. Come and see me tomorrow.”  
Yidra nodded. “I will. I’m sure Nahia or Eira will cover my chores…if I give them something good to gossip about.”  
Kerner’s smile grew. “Well, we better not disappoint.”   
The kiss that followed left Yidra’s legs weak. She felt like a fire had been kindled in her stomach, and her heart felt like it was fully of butterflies. She lost all sense of time as Kerner held her, showing off his passion for her.   
After the kiss ended, Kerner became concerned when Yidra said nothing. “Love? Are you all right?”  
Yidra nodded. “I’m starting to get the impression you like me.”  
Kerner helped her to her footpaws and began to pack up the tent. “Don’t worry about your family,” he said. “I’ll be here for you. Always.”   
Smiling a little, Yidra remembered what her mother had said. “I just have to follow my heart, for better or for worse.”   
“I’m better, right?”  
Yidra grabbed his arm and walked with him back to the north. “You bet your tail you’re better.”  
*  
The next morning was unusually warm, but Yidra wasn’t going to complain about the weather. Glad to feel some heat after a season of cold, she left behind her thicker blouses and traveling cloak, choosing instead to wear a sleeveless tunic and a long skirt. Like an exited ottercub, she dashed bare-pawed on her way over the dunes toward Kerner’s cave.  
Her stoat met her outside his home. He too was dressed for the weather, going without a shirt as he often did.  
“You still don’t like wearing shirts, eh?” Yidra teased as she hugged him.  
“What, you don’t like having a look at all this,” he flirted, stretching his arms and showing off the muscles he had earned with his hard work over the winter.  
“I didn’t say that,” Yidra flirted back, rubbing his bicep.   
“So what are we going to do today?” Kerner asked as they wandered off in the direction of the beach, holding paws.   
“I was thinking we could have a picnic on the beach.”  
“A picnic with what?”  
Yidra looked down at her empty paw. “Oh acorns. I forgot the picnic basket.”  
Kerner howled with laughter as Yidra stamped her paw. “It’s not funny!” she protested before bursting into laughter herself.   
“How about we go fishing instead? I always carry a line now,” Kerner suggested, pulling a fishing line out of his pocket.  
Down at the beach, Kerner’s line tied to a stick became a fishing pole. Fixing the pole upright in the sand, Kerner and Yidra busied themselves setting up a cooking fire while they waited for a fish to take the bait.   
As the cooking fire began to burn, the pair lay down on the warm sand and listened to the gulls calling as they circled above, riding the thermals to greater and greater heights.   
“Kerner?”  
“Yes, Yidra?”  
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Where did you live before you came to the coastlands? You can’t have been born a wandering beggar. So what happened?”  
Kerner stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering what to say. “I don’t like talking about it,” he said calmly. “I find it upsetting. It’s nothing about anything terrible I’ve done. I haven’t killed anybeast or nothing.” He sighed. “Let me think about for a while. I promise I’ll tell you soon.”  
“Thank you Kerner. I won’t tell anybeast if you don’t want me to. You can trust me.”  
“I know that,” Kerner said, smiling again. “I’ve known that for a while. I’d trust you with anything.”  
Glad to see Kerner happy again, Yidra leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “Love you.”  
“Yidra?” said a deep voice behind her in a mix of confusion and anger.  
Yidra felt her heart skip a beat. Slowly turning her head, she saw her father standing a score of paces away, holding the missing picnic basket in his paw. He wore a scowl on his face, his eyes fixed hard on Kerner.   
“Yidra, what is this?” he almost growled.   
Yidra had never seen her father this angry, not even when she had accidently set Nifel’s whiskers on fire. She cowered back toward Kerner. “Papa, it’s not-”  
“I don’t want to hear it,” he waved his paws about, dashing the picnic basket on the rocks, smashing the contents and spilling scones and berries over the beach. “Back to the holt, now.”  
“Papa-”  
“Do as I say!” he demanded as he marched off northward.   
Yidra began panicking, breathing rapidly, heart pounding. She couldn’t think straight. Papa knew. They’d all know now. What was she going to do? She felt herself falling into a whirlpool of fear, down and down into darkness.  
Kerners paws lifted her head up to look into his gentle, green eyes. Despite what had happened, he was still smiling. “Let’s go, Yidra.”  
“Go where?” she managed to choke out.   
“To your holt. I want to meet your mother too.”   
“But if they see you…now that they know…”  
“I’m not afraid,” he pulled her up. “I’ve never been afraid. Not for a long time. Let’s go.”  
Yidra’s footpaws felt as heavy as stones. Every step was an ordeal, but Kerner held onto her, supporting her, guiding her. After an eternity, they reached the holt. Colborn the Chieftain was standing outside.  
“Yidra, what’s going on? Your father came back in a rage, but he didn’t say what about, just told me to wait for you.”  
“Colborn, this is Kerner,” she brought the stoat forward.  
“Oh,” his eyes went wide. “Oh dear. I see. Well, you best go in I suppose. You and your…guest.”  
There was shouting as she entered the cavern. Yidra’s father, nearly inarticulate with rage, was yelling something at her mother, though he wasn’t making much sense. A small crowd was nearby, drawn in by the noise her father was making. Nahia and Eira were standing nearby when Yidra walked in.   
“Yid,” they said, noticing the stoat with her, who-”  
“Kerner,” she said.   
“He’s…a stoat?” Eira said as if she wasn’t certain of it.  
“I’ve noticed.”  
“He’s cute,” Nahia commented. “Nice catch.”  
“ThankYouNahiaThat’sVeryHelpful,” Yidra said between gritted teeth.   
By then, other otters were noticing the stoat in their midst, whispering and pointing and staring. Yidra’s father and mother noticed her then, turning to face her.   
Her father glared at Kerner. “Why have you brought this vermin to our holt?”  
“Whatever you have to save concerns him too,” Yidra argued, trying to put on a brave face. “He deserves to hear it. He is my friend and my guest.” Yidra took a breath. “And I love him.”  
Her father shook his head. “You can’t love vermin.”  
“Says who!?” Yidra suddenly found her voice. “He’s been nothing but kind to me since I met him. He’s sweet, and affectionate, and humble. He hasn’t asked a thing of me that I wasn’t ready to give. I’ve never met anybeast like him and I’m not about to let him go.”  
“This goes against everything I’ve taught you! Vermin are treacherous and violent. It’s impossible for vermin to live peacefully!” her father shouted. “I forbid you to have anything to do with him.”  
“Just because you’re too stupid to imagine it doesn’t make it impossible,” Yidra shouted back, marching up to her father with Kerner in tow.   
“I will not be spoken to in this manner!”  
“Get used to it! You don’t like vermin? Well you’re the only one here who’s acting like one.”  
A fury like that of a badger-lord entered her father’s eyes, and several things happened at once: he raised his paw, balled up in a fist; Yidra cowered back, raising her arms to protect herself; her mother shrieked her father’s name; a brown blur rushed past Yidra heading straight toward her father.  
An instant later, everything was still. Kerner was in front of Yidra now. In the blink of an eye, he had rushed past Yidra into the path of her father’s blow. He caught the adult male otter’s arm mid-swing and held it in place. Gone was the smile on his face. His lips were drawn back in a snarl. His fangs were showing. The look in his eyes, equal in fury to Yidra’s father, could have frozen the seas. His voice rent the air like a crack of thunder. “Don’t you dare touch her!”  
The otter’s fist opened. Yidra’s father slowly turned his head to look at his paw, staring at it as if it were a foreign object somehow attached to his body. “I didn’t…” he stuttered, confused and afraid. “I didn’t mean…”  
Yidra’s mother stepped forward, surprisingly calm considering the circumstances. “Kerner, please let go of my husband.” After the stoat let go and stepped back she leaned toward her husband, placing her paws on either side of his face. “Love,” she whispered, “go outside and calm down.”  
“I…I…” he continued to sputter.   
“For me, love. Outside. Go calm down.”  
He nodded and stumbled his way out of the cavern and headed towards the beach.  
Yidra’s mother turned her attention back to the two young creatures at the center of everything. “Yid,” she asked her daughter steadily, “this is the creature you’ve been going to see? Who you spent all winter pining for?”  
Yidra nodded. “He’s a decent creature, Mum. A decent creature who treats me well.”  
A look of recognition flashed across her mother’s face as she heard her words thrown back at her. She closed her eyes and sighed before continuing. “Do you like mint tea, Kerner?”  
“I…I um, I’ve never had-”  
“It’s a perfect time to try some. Come with me you two.”  
They walked back through one of the passageways as the other otters stared. Older otters grumbled to each other about letting vermin in; younger cubs hid behind their parents, afraid the vermin would get them.  
Inside her home, Yidra’s mother had Yidra and Kerner sit at the table as she poured out tea from a steaming kettle. She added a plate of biscuits and sat down across from them, sipping from her own cup. “You really didn’t go halfway on this, did you?” she asked rhetorically. “I suppose you knew from the start that this wouldn’t go over well with anybeast here?’  
Yidra nodded, still shaken from her father’s outburst. “Will Papa be okay?”  
“I’ll deal with him. Don’t worry.” She looked to Kerner. “So, you love my daughter, do you?”  
“Yes ma’am, more than anything. I would probably be dead or starving if not for her.” Kerner was remarkably calm considering his position in the middle of an otter den.  
“It doesn’t bother you at all that she’s an otter?”  
“She’s the kindest creature I’ve ever met. Helped me even when she had no reason to. Can’t help but love her. That don’t change ‘cause she’s got a rudder.”  
“You must have seen how the others looked at you.”  
“The old ones despise me; the young ones fear me,” Kerner calmly stated. “They don’t bother me. They aren’t Yidra. What she thinks is all I care about, ma’am. Though I would like it if you thought I was a good bloke.”   
“Do you think you can protect yourself from the others? I know some of them who would have killed you had you not been a guest. There are other creatures out there who hate vermin just as much.”  
“Don’t call him vermin!” Yidra shouted. “He’s not some bandit or thief.”  
Her mother held up her paws in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry, dear, but there are many who would see him only as vermin, and there are many vermin who would see you only as prey.” She turned back to Kerner. “Can you protect yourself and her as well? Anybeast could be a threat.”  
Kerner set down his cup. “Ma’am, dying does not scare me. The only thing that scares me now is losing Yidra. She is the only thing precious to me. I would fight any number of creatures and die trying if it meant keeping your daughter safe.” He paused to sip some tea. “If you husband had hit her, I would have attacked him. Nobeast will hurt Yidra if I have anything to say about it.” He took another sip. “Though from what I’ve seen she hardly needs me for protection.”  
Yidra’s mother silently examined Kerner, appraising and evaluating everything he had said. After what felt like an eternity, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Yidra, I’ll be completely honest with you. Kerner seems like a decent creature, but I still don’t like this relationship between you two.”  
Yidra opened her mouth to speak, but her mother held up her paw for silence. “Let me finish, dear. I remember what I said to you, that I would be happy for you if you found somebeast decent who was good to you. That is still true, but,” she paused to wipe the tears that were forming, “but I don’t want to lose my daughter.”  
“You aren’t losing me, Mama. I’m not going anywhere.”  
“I know you want to stay here, dear, and you’ll always be welcome in our home, but there are others here who will be plenty angry about ver…about a stoat living here. You know how otters get when they’re riled up. I don’t think Warmspring will be safe for you two for a while.”  
“But if they just get to know him-”  
“They don’t want to get to know him, Yidra! And I don’t want to think about what will happen if you get in their way. Please Yidra, do this for your mother.”  
“I think she’s right, love.” Kerner added. “There were some nasty looks I was gettin’. We should move somewhere else, if only for a season or two.”  
“Where will we go, Mum? South? That’s where Kerner spent the winter.”  
“South and east,” her mother said, pulling things out of the cupboards. “Kerner, when you went south, you came across a wide river flowing out into the sea, yes?”  
Kerner nodded.  
“Find that river again. Follow it inland into Mossflower until it cuts across a path. Take the path south and you’ll find a great building surrounded by walls. That’s the Abbey of Redwall. I was there once on a trip with my family when I was little more than a pup. I remember the creatures there were as kind and helpful as they come. If there’s a place you two can stay together. Even if they don’t like Kerner, they’re a peaceful lot, so you should be safe.” She took out two sacks and started filling them with food and other supplies. “Go and put on your traveling clothes, Yidra. They journey will be long, but these supplies should last a while.”  
Kerner smiled at her. “I see where Yidra gets her generosity from.”  
“I’ll give you one thing, Yidra,” her mother said to her as she walked by, “he is quite a charmer.”  
While Yidra changed in another room, her mother had a quiet chat with Kerner.  
“Tell me Kerner, did you truly mean everything you said?”  
“Every word, ma’am. When I first met her, I was starving, and she gave me a fish to eat. After weeks of beings chased away from settlements and caravans, it was the first kindness anybeast had shown me. Then she kept on helping me, giving me things I needed. I thoughts she was the most wonderful beast in the world, and I still think that now. I had nothing, ma’am. No family, nor permanent home, not even a shirt to my name. And I thought that, if I had nothing to give her, I could at least make her a little bit happier. At first I only meant to be her friend, ma’am. Didn’t expect to fall in love with her, but I’m glad I did. She didn’t just give me a fish, ma’am. She gave me a reason to live.”  
Yidra’s mother put her paws on Kerner’s shoulders. “I am trusting you with my daughter,” she whispered pleadingly, “please keep her safe.”  
Kerner looked into the otter mother’s eyes with the utmost conviction. “She is all I care for in this world. I value her more than my own life.”  
Satisfied, she let Kerner go as Yidra entered the room, adjusting her traveling clothes.   
“How do I look?” Yidra asked. “Everything on straight?”  
“You look beautiful,” Kerner said.  
“Does he always flirt this much?” Yidra’s mother asked.   
“He does,” Yidra confirmed. “I enjoy it quite a bit.”  
“We best say goodbye here,” her mother said. “If I go out with you, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” She hugged her daughter. “It’s only for a season, until things calm down here, but as far as I’m concerned, you will always have a home here. You and your frien…your lover as well.”  
“I love you, Mama.” Yidra said. “I know you don’t like this much or really understand, but…but thanks for trying, Mama.”  
Kerner nodded at the elder otter. “Ma’am.”   
“Mama, what’s goin’ on?” asked Nifel and Muspel, coming in from the passageway. They stopped and looked up at Kerner.   
“Yidra’s going on a trip, dears,” she said, pulling them to her side. “She’s going away for a while with her friend, but she’ll be back before the autumn. Why don’t you give her a hug goodbye?”  
The otter-twins both hugged Yidra around her legs, not being able to reach any higher. Then they turned their attention to Kerner. “Are you the vermin they’re talkin’ ‘bout out there?”  
Kerner knelt down to their level. “Do you think I’m the vermin?”  
The young otters looked at Kerner, especially noticing his smile. “You’re our sister’s friend?”  
“That’s right.”  
“The one she really likes?”  
“Pretty sure.”  
They examined him again, finally saying “Vermins is nasty beasts. If’n you’re our sister’s friend, you must be a good beast.”   
“I’m glad you think so.” He stood up. “You have two very smart sons, ma’am.”   
“Thank you, Kerner. No be off, the both of you, I can’t take much more of this.”  
Yidra and Kerner went out to the main cavern which had mostly cleared up. Only a few otters remained in the common area, and they watched Yidra and Kerner leaving the holt. They walked past Chieftain Colborn at the cavern entrance. He was watching a lone otter, sitting along the tideline.   
“Kerner, wait here,” Yidra said, walking alone toward the otter. She knelt down next to him. “Papa, I’m going away for a while with Kerner. It’s only for a season, maybe two, and I’ll be back eventually.” She dug around in her mind for what to say next. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Papa, but I do love Kerner. I know it’s hard for you, but I hope you can try to understand. I love you, Papa.” She gave him a quick kiss on the head and walked back to Kerner.  
“I’m ready now,” she said. “Let’s find that river.”  
*  
Interlude  
Yidra and Kerner were but distant dots on the southern horizon when Sibil stepped out of the holt onto the beach. She missed her daughter already and was regretting her decision to send them away, even though she knew it was for the best. Her daughter would be safe at Redwall, of that she was certain.   
“Your husband needs you, Sibil,” Colborn said from where he sat cross-legged on the top of a boulder. “He’s been sitting there since you sent him out. Hasn’t said a word.”  
Sibil nodded. “I’d like to be alone with him.”  
Colborn slid down the rock and walked inside, leaving the two otters alone on the beach.  
Sibil walked up to her husband and sat down beside him, rubbing his back as she talked. “Njord, have you calmed down a bit?”  
Njord looked down at his paws, shaking. “I nearly hit her. Hit our daughter.” He broke down sobbing. “My little girl. Why would I do that?”  
“I don’t know, love, but I’m going to be quite cross with you for a while.” Sibil knew she had to be gentle now. There would be time for anger later.  
“I didn’t hurt her, did I?”  
“You certainly scared her, me as well. You would have done far more than that if Kerner hadn’t caught your arm.”  
“The vermin,” Njord grunted. “She’s gone off with him now? She came up to me when she left. Didn’t really hear much of what she said.”  
“I sent them away, just for a while. They’ll be safer at Redwall.”  
“Safe from me,” he groaned, feeling the weight of his actions catching up to him.  
“What made you so angry, love? I don’t like this situation much myself, but you didn’t seem to be yourself. This isn’t like you, not anymore.”  
Njord remained silent.  
“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”  
Njord clenched his fist. His breathing became shallow. “It’s like he was standing right in front of me. The one who killed my brother. Ferret, stoat. Doesn’t matter. I could see him. Laughing as he stabbed and stabbed and stabbed…”  
“But it isn’t him, Njord. I’ve talked with him. Kerner truly seems like a good creature. I’m convinced of that.”  
“I still don’t like it. Rubs my fur the wrong way.”  
“I don’t like it either, for different reasons, but there’s nothing we can do to stop them. The least we can do is make sure she has a home to come back to. She’s our daughter, and we’ll always love her, not matter who she wants to be with.”  
“You sure there isn’t a nice otter out there we could introduce her to?”  
“You didn’t see the way they looked at each other. I don’t think she’ll be noticing anybeast else again.”  
Njord sighed and Sibil leaned into his shoulder. “Remember when we were going to get married?” she asked. “Remember how much my parents hated you?”  
“Because I was from outside their holt, from a holt they hated for no good reason. They were just being old and ridiculous.”  
“Maybe it’s our time to be old and ridiculous.”  
A faint smile briefly appeared on Njord’s face. “Old now, are we?”  
“I know I’ve been finding grey furs in my brush.”  
“You’re as beautiful as the day I met you.”   
“And you better not forget that.”   
Njord took Sibil’s paw in his. “Our little girl is growing up. It scares me, Sibil.”  
“I know, Njord, but there’s nothing we can do to stop it. She’s almost fully grown now.”  
“This stoat is a nice one, you say?”   
“He reminds me a bit of you when you were his age: passionate, with a bit of a hidden temper.”  
“Oh no. If that’s the case, he’s definitely going to be trouble.”  
*  
Yidra winced in pain with every step as she struggled to keep up with Kerner’s pace, leaning on his shoulder for support.  
“Are they still following us?” she hissed through her pain, twisting her neck and looking over her shoulder into the forest behind them, searching for any sign of rustling bushes or snapping twigs.   
“I think we may be alright,” Kerner said as he half-carried Yidra along. “I heard a few crash through a patch of thorns. Might’ve gotten them to change their mind. How are you holding up?”  
Yidra brought her paw down to the warm, wet spot where an arrow stuck into her side and winced again. “It’s still bleeding. We’re going to need to stop and bandage it soon.”  
“I don’t think I can,” Kerner said, worry slipping through the brave face he was trying to put on. “I’m not a healer. I might hurt you worse by mistake.”  
“The arrowhead is –ow— cutting me every time I step. I’m just going to keep bleeding. We’re going to have to take care of it ourselves. The Abbey is still almost a day away.”  
“Do you think you can make it to evening? We can get a fire going an’ boil some water.”  
Yidra shook her head. “I don’t know. I think we need to do something about the bleeding now.”  
Kerner brought them to a stop. “I’ll see what I can do.” He put down both of the packs he was carrying and lifted Yidra’s shirt so he could see where the arrow stuck inside her just beneath her ribs. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it was bleeding profusely. “I really don’t think we should take the head out until we can stop somewhere, but I’ll break off the shaft and try to keep the head still.” He put a paw around the shaft where it stuck out of her body, causing Yidra to wince. “Sorry, love.”   
“Just do it!” she hissed, tapping her footpaw on the ground, trying to fight through the pain.  
Kerner snapped the shaft cleanly, Yidra cried out. Blood continued to flow. Pulling their groundsheet out of one of the packs, Kerner began to tear off strips to use as bandages.   
“Not too tight,” Yidra instructed as Kerner began wrapping the bandages around her. “Don’t press the arrow in deeper.”   
As Kerner carefully bandaged Yidra’s wound, he thought about the events that had gotten them to this point. Their first few days of traveling down toward the River Moss were uneventful. They encountered a few creatures as they followed the river in the direction of the ford far inland, but most of these creatures shied away from them when they saw Kerner. After a few days of following the river, Kerner convinced Yidra they should cut southeast through the forest until they ran into the path, believing it would save time. He also felt that bad weather was coming, and he wanted to find somewhere sheltered to spend the night. It took some convincing, but Yidra had finally agreed with him.  
Not long after they’d begun their trek through the woods, they ran into a gang of water rats who had set up camp along the forest trail they had been following. The rats had demanded their supplies and everything else they were carrying, but Kerner had grabbed Yidra by the arm and dragged her back into the woods, running with her has fast as they could. The water rats gave chase, and one of them had fired an arrow at them, striking Yidra in the side as the very end of its flight.   
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Kerner said as he finished wrapping the bandage. “It’s my fault.”  
“How is it your fault?” Yidra asked as she took a few steps, testing out the bandage.   
“If I’d given them our things, they wouldn’t have shot you.”  
Yidra shook her head at Kerner. “Those were proper vermin. They would have taken our things and killed us all the same. I was ready to push you back into the woods when you grabbed me and started running. There’s nothing else you could have done.”  
“I told your mum I’d keep you safe,” Kerner said, dejected.   
“Well, you can get shot next time then.” Yidra winced as she laughed at her own joke.  
“Let’s just get going,” Kerner insisted, continuing on with his head hung low.  
Despite the bandaging, Yidra was still slowed down by her injury, and the two travelers failed to reach the path by evening. Kerner found a campsite near a rocky overhang. He got a fire going and boiled some water in their small cooking pot that had been in their supplies.  
“Your mum really thought of everything,” Kerner commented.  
“She always does,” Yidra agreed.  
Kerner undid the bandage, which was now soaked with Yidra’s blood. Once the boiled water cooled to a tolerable temperature, he began cleaning the wound, apologizing every time he made Yidra wince. When he was done, he wrapped a new bandage around the wound. “That’s the best I can do,” he said. “I hope it holds. Now what would you like to eat?” He started fishing through the supply packs.  
“Not hungry,” Yidra said wearily. “Too tired to eat.”  
“Let’s sleep then.” Kerner lay down next to Yidra.  
“Can I use your cloak? I’m a little cold.”  
Kerner thought it was a fairly comfortable evening, especially with the fire going close by, but he nonetheless took off his cloak and spread it over the both of them like a blanket, settling himself in closer to Yidra to keep her warm.  
It didn’t take long for Kerner to pack everything up in the morning, letting Yidra sleep until he was ready to head out. “Come on love, time to get going.”  
Yidra didn’t respond to him.  
“Yidra?” he asked, concern growing. “Yidra, are you ready to head out?”  
She moaned something and made a feeble attempt to get up, but fell back into place when her arms gave out.  
“Yidra!” Kerner cried, kneeling down next to her. A single touch was all it took for him to tell she was terribly ill. She was burning up; a fever had set it, and Kerner knew there was nothing he could do out in the wilderness. He remembered hearing that the Abbeydwellers were healers, and they were his only hope now. Dropping everything he was carrying, Kerner pulled Yidra to her feet, holding her up as she barely remained standing.  
“So…cold,” she shivered.  
“We’re getting to the Abbey today,” he told her, helping her along.  
There was nothing but plains to the north when they stepped out of the forest onto the long dusty path. Turning to the south, they continued their slow march toward Redwall. Yidra only grew weaker as the day went on.  
At noon, they rounded a bend in the path and beheld in the distance a beautiful sight: a tower of pale pink sandstone rose above the treetops, practically glowing in the midday sun.   
“We’re nearly there,” Kerner panted.  
Yidra, exhausted from her illness and the morning spent traveling, fainted dead away. Kerner caught her as she fell into him, keeping her partially upright.  
“Yidra,” he shook her. “Yidra!”   
Her only response was a pitiful moan.  
“Hold on, Yidra, I’m getting you there.” Without a thought to his own limits, Kerner took Yidra in his arms and lifted her. Ignoring the aching in his muscles, he pressed onward, forcing every single step. His legs burned, his arms screamed, but he pressed onward, refusing to let Yidra go. When he at last reached the Abbey, he leaned on the walls, using them to stay standing. He followed the wall until he came to the towering main gate. He gently placed Yidra on the ground and began beating on the door with all his might.  
“Help us!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “My friend is hurt! We need help! Please open this door! Please!”  
The weight of the burden he had carried caught up with him, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, but he continued beating the door. “Please! Please open this door!” He started throwing his whole body against the sturdy wooden gates. He bounced off the gate and fell; he couldn’t push himself back up.  
The gate slowly creaked open. A squirrel in a green robe looked down at him and then the otter.   
“Please,” Kerner begged as his voice started to give out. “Help her. Do whatever you want with me. Just help my friend.” Darkness took him.  
Kerner’s next moment of awareness was a muddled mess of voices around them. He couldn’t tell what they were saying. He was lying on a bed, a proper bed, not like his own sailcloth bed back home. It was the softest thing he had ever felt, better than even the finest sand on a beach. He could have easily drifted back off into slumber, but one thought pushed through his mental fog, forcing him awake.  
“Yidra!” he cried out as he sat bolt upright. His head swam, and he fell back onto the bed. “Yidra,” he cried pitifully.   
“Your friend is resting,” said a warm, motherly voice from nearby. Kerner’s vision was blurred, so he could not see who it was. The voice’s owner started arranging Kerner’s blankets over him. “We took the arrow out from her side, but the wound was infected. Her fever isn’t dangerous anymore, but she’s terribly weak. Our healers are watching her now. You need rest too. You’re exhausted.”  
“Lemme see her,” Kerner insisted, trying to rise.   
“Sleep,” the warm voice said as gentle paws pushed him down to the bed. Kerner felt compelled to obey, and fell back into a deep slumber.  
When he awoke, Kerner could see clearly again, and his head no longer spun when he tried to sit up. He noticed for the first time that his paw was wrapped in a bandage and felt incredibly sore. He was in a large room with beds lining the wall. There were no other beasts in the room, save for Yidra, who was still sleeping on the bed next to him.  
As hard as it was to not immediately rush to her side, Kerner stayed in his bed, not wanting to wake Yidra from her much-needed rest. He sat up in bed and poked at the wrapping around his paw, trying to make it a little more comfortable.   
“I’d leave that alone if I were you,” said the kind voice from before. “Sister Lillian would be mighty peeved if you made her redo her work.”  
Kerner let his paw fall, winced when it hit the mattress, and looked over to where the voice came from. Standing in the doorway was a grey-furred mouse wearing a robe identical to the one worn by the squirrel at the gate.   
“How is she?” Kerner asked, turning his attention to Yidra. “Will she be all right?”  
“The greatest danger has passed,” the robed mouse said as she came to sit on Kerner’s bed, “but our healers are still watching her. They said the infection was severe. We’re giving her medicine on a regular basis. What she needs for now is rest.”  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
“You need to rest too. You nearly broke your paw slamming it on our door. We also had to remove nearly a score of wood slivers from your arm and chest. Honestly, throwing yourself against the gate was reckless.”  
“I had to get in. Yidra needed help. I’d have broken both my paws if I had to.”  
“Yidra? So that’s her name. You obviously care a great deal for her.”  
Kerner looked longingly over at the injured otter who was so dear to him. “She means everything to me. I’d do anything for her.”  
“I suspect there is a long story that explains how you two came to be here together.”  
“There is,” Kerner confirmed, “though Yidra should be the one to tell her part of it. Perhaps when she is better.”  
“I can wait until then,” the kind mouse said pensively, “until then, you’re welcome to come with me. I can show you our Abbey and get you something to eat. You must be starving.”  
“If it’s all the same, ma’am, I’d like to stay here and watch over Yidra.”  
“Of course. I will have some food sent up for you.”  
“Ma’am, it’s not a problem is it? Me being here? I know stoats and other creatures like me often have a well-deserved reputation.”  
The mouse closed her eyes and thought. “All who come in peace are welcome at Redwall. Though I admit there are times when we forget what ‘All’ is supposed to mean. Some of us struggle with our own biases, but as long as you do no harm to others, there is no reason you will not be allowed to stay.”  
“Thank you, ma’am.” Kerner realized he hadn’t introduced himself. “My name is Kerner.”   
The mouse gave a respectful bow. “Abbess Bryony. Welcome to Redwall Abbey.” She stood up to leave and glanced at the hourglass standing on the bedside table next to Yidra. The sand had stopped flowing a moment earlier. “Simeon,” she called toward a small chamber separate from the main room, it’s time for the young otter’s medicine.”  
“Coming, Mother Abbess,” replied a young-sounding voice from the other room.   
“I will leave you to rest,” the Abbess said to Kerner, “Young Simeon will see to your friend.” She went out the infirmary door, but before she fully passed from sight, she paused and gave Kerner another look with a mixture of sadness and longing in her eyes.   
Kerner did not have much time to himself before another mouse walked in. There were two aspects of the mouse’s appearance which surprised Kerner. First was his age; the mouse could not have been a summer or two older than Yidra’s own brothers, yet he carried himself with an air of maturity and dignity normally found in creatures three times his age. Second was his face; his eyes were completely covered by a long strip of cloth that wrapped around his head several times.   
“Good afternoon,” said the young mouse whom the Abbess had called Simeon. He moved without hesitation to Yidra’s bed.   
Kerner leaned over, trying to get another look at Simeon’s face, wondering if there was some sort of trick going on. He heard the mouse sigh.  
“Yes, I’m blind. Can’t see at all. If you really want I’ll show you my eyes later, but if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my work.” The young mouse began examining Yidra, occasionally commenting to himself. “Fever has gone down,” he said as he placed a paw on her forehead. “That’s good.” He moved his paw down to her chest and felt her heart. “Heartbeast is slow, but that’s to be expected.”  
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Kerner asked, concerned as to how she remained asleep during the exam.  
“We used a sedative when we removed the arrowhead,” Simeon explained as he put an ear to Yidra’s mouth and listened to her breathing. “She’ll be out until dinnertime. Breathing is good.” He stood up and pulled the blankets back over his patient. “Do you want to help me make her medicine?” he asked Kerner.  
“I’m not a healer. I wouldn’t know what to do.”  
“I’ll rephrase. Can you get a bottle down from a high shelf for me? Somebeast has made off with my step-stool.”   
Kerner got up from his bed, balancing himself on wobbly legs. “Where’s the bottle?”  
“Top shelf over there,” he pointed toward the opposite wall. “A small black bottle. Not that I’d know what black looks like.”   
Kerner went over to the shelf. There were two black bottles on the shelf. He reached out toward one to inspect it.  
“The other one,” Simeon said, not even looking in Kerner’s direction.   
Kerner grabbed the bottle and went back to Simeon, giving him the container. Simeon uncorked it and sniffed. “That’s it,” he said. He opened a jar that had been sitting on the nightstand and scooped out a spoonful of a green-grey powder, scraping the excess off with the jar’s lid and dumping the powder into a cup.  
“What is that?” Kerner asked, wanting to know what he was giving Yidra.  
“It’s a kind of powdered mold,” Simeon said.  
“Mold?” The stuff that grows on rotten food?”  
“Yes, but in this case, it helps to stop infections.” Simeon poured out some liquid from the bottle into the cup and mixed it with the powder.  
“What’s the liquid?”  
“Strawberry cordial. Helps it go down easier. Come help me again. Hold her head up and tilt it back.”  
Kerner did as Simeon asked while the medicine was slowly poured into Yidra’s mouth. Some of it didn’t go down correctly, and she started coughing. Simeon had Kerner pull her into a sitting position until the coughing stopped. When they were done giving Yidra, the medicine, they laid Yidra back down and covered her with her blankets again.  
“Simeon,” Kerner asked as he caressed Yidra’s cheek, “how did one so young become a healer?”  
Simeon closed the jar and bottle as he talked. “When I was younger, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. Playing with the other dibbuns was…difficult. Every game became hide-and-seek for me, regardless of what was being played, and that wasn’t much fun. The kitchen couldn’t use me; fire, knives, and blindness don’t make a good combination. The only thing I could do was sit up here and listen to the healers talk about their medicine and art. I was eventually old enough to actually help them and soon could work on my own.”  
“As long as someone is here to reach the high shelves.”  
Simeon snickered. “True enough.” He stood up from the bedside. “Your wife is recovering rapidly. I think she’s been through the worst of it. I’ll know more once she’s awake and can tell me how she feels.”  
Kerner breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. “  
The infirmary door creaked open and a squirrel walked in, carrying a tray holding two bowls of soup. “I’ve brought food, Simeon,” the squirrel said, “for you and our…” his eyes darted over to Kerner, “guest.”  
“Leave it on the table over there, Brugg. We’ll eat when it cools.” Simeon sniffed the air. “Vegetable stew. I hope Brother Frumble has learned there are other vegetables besides carrots.”  
“There are mushrooms and potatoes as well,” Brugg said, taking a second glance at Kerner as he stepped out.   
“He’s afraid of me,” Kerner commented once the door closed again. “I won’t be surprised if I get that reaction a lot. Does it bother you, Simeon? That I’m a stoat?”  
“To me, everybeast is just a voice and pawsteps. I’ve never examined a stoat, so to me, all I know of them is that they’re taller than me, which holds true for many creatures, actually. If I may, might I feel your face? I’d like to know what a stoat is like.”  
“Go ahead.” Kerner sat down on his bed so Simeon could touch his face; while standing, Simeon would have barely come up to Kerner’s chest.   
“Interesting,” Simeon commented at he ran the tips of his paws over Kerner’s face. “Very otter-like, but with finer features.” He put his paws down. “Fair is fair. I’ve examined you. Did you want to see my eyes? See if I really am blind?”  
“You don’t have to,” Kerner said, trying to be polite.  
“It’s perfectly fine to be curious,” Simeon insisted, starting to unwrap the cloth from around his eyes. “I wouldn’t know anything if I wasn’t curious.”  
The wrapping fell away and Simeon gazed out unseeing, the color in his eyes glazed over by a milky fog.   
“So you’ve never been able to see?” Kerner asked, morbidly fascinated with Simeon’s condition.   
“Never,” Simeon answered. “Can’t even wrap my head around what “seeing” is. Nobeast knows why I was born like this. They said my mother fell terribly ill while she was pregnant with me, so that might be related. But I think I’ve coped adequately with my condition.” He redid the wrapping around his eyes. “Now let’s eat.”  
The stew was, as Simeon had feared, mostly carrots, but with an occasional mushroom or potato to give the consumer a false hope of variety. Kerner hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He enthusiastically devoured everything in the stew and drank all the broth down.  
“If you’re still hungry, you can go down to the kitchens later, or wait until dinner. There’s always something good to eat down there.”  
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take anybeast’s food.”  
“My friend, no beast goes hungry at Redwall. There’s always plenty share with enough left over for seconds. If you’re hungry, you’re always welcome to drop by the kitchens.”  
Kerner spent the rest of the afternoon in the infirmary. He had dragged his bed closer to Yidra’s and lay there watching her sleep. Simeon offered to call one of the Abbey’s brothers or sisters and have him shown around, but Kerner refused to leave Yidra’s side. When the sun began to set, her heard a drumming sound coming from outside: the beating of a hollow log to signal mealtimes. Simeon had said Yidra would wake up around dinnertime, so he waited patiently, looking for any sign that she might stir. After a while, his attentiveness paid off. Yidra’s eyes slowly opened and she blinked a few times and yawned.   
“Hey there,” Kerner said quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed. “How are you feeling?”  
“Weak. Hungry.” Yidra said. “But really well-rested. Where are we? Is this Redwall?”  
“Yes,” Kerner said. “You got sick, and they helped fix you up. You gave me quite a scare, you know.”  
“I’m sorry, love. I’ll be more careful the next time I get shot.”  
“That’s all I ask.” Kerner leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. As he was doing so, the door opened and the squirrel Brugg entered wheeling a cart. The Abbess stood behind him, but remained at the door.  
“Abbess sent me up with your dinner,” Brugg explained as he looked back and forth between Yidra and Kerner. He pushed the cart between their beds, making it like a small table. Without another word, he left the infirmary. Bryony entered the room and sat on Yidra’s bed.  
“Was there something you needed, Abbess?” Kerner asked.  
“Now that Yidra is awake, I was hoping to hear the story of how you came to Redwall, but it can wait until you’ve finished eating.” She sat quietly as the two young creatures ate their fill. Yidra, not having the benefit of any sort of lunch, ate ravenously. When they were finished, the Abbess pushed the cart away. “Now then” she said, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”  
Together, Yidra and Kerner related their story to the attentive Abbess, each giving their own side of events and filling in details which the other had forgotten. They told her of they met, how Yidra had helped Kerner better take care of himself, how they had to separate for the winter, how they reunited, and the circumstances which led to their departure from the coast.   
“You poor dears,” Abbess Byrony said when they finished. “Terrible that you had to leave your home. Still, as I told Kerner earlier, there’ s no reason you can’t stay at Redwall for as long as you wish. Once the healers say Yidra is clear to leave the infirmary, we can see about getting a room for each of you.”  
“Abbess, would it be possible for us to room together?” Kerner asked. “All we have right now is each other, and I don’t want to be apart from Yidra.”  
“Of course, dear. That should be no trouble at all.”  
When the Abbess got up to leave, Kerner turned his attention back to Yidra, but he saw out of the corner of his eye the Abbess stop and glance at him with the same look as before: sadness and longing.   
They spent the night in the infirmary. Yidra said she felt fine after she had something to eat, but the healers, Simeon included, insisted that she stay overnight, just to be safe. Kerner stayed in the bed next to her. As Yidra had spent most of the day asleep or sedated, she wasn’t tired, so they stayed up until late into the night.   
The next morning they left the infirmary for the first time and were shown around the Abbey. Their guide, an eager young mouse named Thomas, brought them everywhere, all the way from the deep cellars to the top of the empty bell tower, where there was only a hollow log that was beaten to signal morning, noon, and night. Yidra was happy to see that there was a pond for swimming as well as a number of other otters; it helped her to feel less homesick. Nobeast said an unkind thing about Kerner as they were shown around, but he couldn’t help but feel their eyes on him when his back was turned. “They aren’t used to you yet,” he’d tell himself. “Give them a few days and you’ll be just another creature.”  
Kerner’s thoughts appeared to hold true. Within several days, he had started helping out in the cellars, arranging and pulling barrels at the instructions of the resident cellarhog. His lean frame was useful for squeezing between the towering casks into smaller spaces where older barrels had been left and forgotten. His presence at mealtimes became less of a disturbance as the Abbeydwellers became used to him. The dibbuns, once they overcame their initial shyness, were full of questions for Kerner. The older beasts, though still somewhat uncomfortable with the stoat, were at the very least respectful. However, Kerner noticed there was one Abbeydweller who seemed to be avoiding him. Several times over a few days, Kerner saw the Abbess nearby and went to talk to her, but she would always disappear behind the next corner and would be gone by the time Kerner reached the spot she had been standing. Kerner was understandably confused. The Abbess had been the one who invited him to stay at Redwall. Was she regretting her decision?  
One morning, Kerner awoke early, before the sunrise had been signaled, and he could not get back to sleep. Across from him, Yidra was still curled up beneath her blankets. Not wanting to disturb her slumber, Kerner quietly dressed and left the room. It would be some time before he had to go help prepare breakfast, so he decided to have a walk around the Abbey and enjoy the quiet of the early morning. Outside, the stars were starting to fade against the lightening sky, vanishing into the gentle blue of the morning. Kerner mounted the nearest set of steps leading up to the battlements and began a circuit around the Abbey. As he rounded the corner to walk atop the eastern wall, he spied Abbess Bryony in the opposite corner, looking out over Mossflower in the direction of the rising sun. Kerner didn’t want to sneak up on the Abbess, but he didn’t want her to disappear on him again, so he stayed quiet until he drew closer.  
“Abbess?” he spoke calmly, not wanting to startle her.   
“Good morning, Kerner,” she said, still leaning upon the battlements. “Trouble sleeping?”  
“I felt like taking a morning walk.” Kerner decided to skip the casual conversation and get right to the point. “Abbess, do you regret allowing me to stay?”  
“Of course not,” she replied immediately, fully sincere in her response. “You and Yidra both are fully welcome at Redwall. What causes your concern?”  
“Well,” Kerner shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to ask an awkward question, “it seems that these past few days you’ve been avoiding me when I try to come talk to you. I was worried I had done something or you were having second thoughts.”  
“No Kerner, you’ve done nothing,” the Abbess assured him before turning pensive. “But I think you’re right, I have been shying away from your presence. I meant no offence. Forgive me.” The Abbess looked out over Mossflower’s treetops. “I do admit your arrival has brought up some unpleasant memories.”  
“Did a stoat hurt someone precious to you? I can understand your aversion-”  
“No dear, nothing like that.” A sad smile briefly appeared on Bryony’s face as the sun began peaking over the horizon, bathing all of Mossflower in golden light. “Long ago, when I was young, little older than you or Yidra, a ferret babe was brought to our Abbey. He had been left behind when an approaching army was ambushed on the path. Despite the reservations of others, he was taken in, and I was given the responsibility for taking care of the infant. I thought he was the most beautiful babe I had ever seen, and he was my baby.” Bryony paused to wipe a tear from her eye. “He was called Veil, and I brought him up as best I could, or at least what I thought was best.” She shook her head. “Things happened, terrible things. He was feisty as an infant, and that didn’t change as he grew. He fought with the other dibbuns, he lied, he stole, and in the end, he tried to kill another Redwaller. For that he was cast out of the Abbey, and I was heartbroken. I tried to follow him, to reform him, but wherever he went, he hurt others, stole from them, he even nearly killed me once, but I still followed him. I needed to help him. In the end, fate brought him to his father, a warlord named Sixclaw. I got caught between them and Sixclaw tried to kill me. Veil ran in front of him to save me and was slain in my place.” Bryony was now fully weeping, tears freely flowing. “My baby was dead, and the only place I had left to go was back to Redwall. When I got there, I said that he had been bad from the start and couldn’t have helped being that way, that he never did a kind thing to any other creature, and that…” Byrony slid down to the walkway, sobbing. “I said that the world was better without Veil in it. I said that about my baby.”  
Byrony sat there, gasping and crying, dozens of seasons of frustration and guilt pouring out of her. Kerner put his paw on her shoulder, comforting her as best he could.   
“I might have truly believed that back then, but now I think it’s a load of owl pellets. Maybe I just wanted to lie to myself, to pretend it wasn’t my fault, wasn’t any of our faults. Maybe the others were too quickly to accuse Veil, maybe I covered up for him or shielded him far too often. Maybe I should have let him feel the consequences for his actions early on. Maybe he would have grown up better having felt a little discipline.” She looked at Kerner through tearstained eyes. “When I look at you, I can see what Veil could have been. So kind, so helpful, with so much love for others. Then I remember how much of it is my fault. My fault that my baby is dead.” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her habit, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. “I’m sorry, Kerner. It’s not your job to listen to my confessions or absolve me of my misdeeds.”  
“You don’t need to apologize, Abbess. I’m sorry for what happened to your son.”  
“Thank you, Kerner.” Bryony stood up and smoothed out her habit. “It’s in the past now, and all I can do is carry the weight with me and do what I can to make sure it never happens again. I’m mother to all of Redwall now, not just my own daughter.”  
“You have a daughter?”  
“Oh yes. That’s a much more pleasant memory. A few seasons after I returned, early in my tenure as Abbess, I grew closer to another mouse here at Redwall. After we got married, I bore him a daughter. She has children of her own now.”  
The sound of drumming from the bell tower briefly interrupted their conversation.   
“I hope that they will still be around when we have an actual bell. They could be the bell-ringers.”  
Kerner took the Abbess’ arm and led her around the wall top and back down the stairs. “Let’s go get some breakfast. Wouldn’t want the dibbuns to eat it all.”  
“Have the dibbuns been treating you well? I know they can often pick up on older creatures bad habits.”  
“They’ve all been very nice to me,” Kerner said, “especially after they realized I could get them strawberry cordial whenever I wanted.”  
*  
Many days passed, nearly a full cycle of the moon, and midsummer rested on Mossflower like a thick blanket. The days were hot and long, but nonetheless pleasant. The autumn would be approaching soon, and the Abbeydwellers were making use of what leisure time they had before the time for harvesting would begin. On one fair evening, it was decided that dinner would be held out on the lawn. The Great Hall’s tables were carried out the main doors and placed on the grass. Picnic blankets turned the grounds into a patchwork of vibrant colors. Dibbuns and other young ones shrieked happily as they played their games under the watchful eye of their minders.  
Yidra relaxed as she floated in the pond, enjoying the cool water while the sun beat down from above and the little fish nibbled on her rudder below. Taking a deep breath, she twisted around and dove, sending the fish scattering. She wove her way through the water with the natural grace only an otter could possess. She reached the other side of the pond and popped halfway onto the shore directly in front of where Kerner was sitting and watching her swim.   
“You sure you don’t want to give it a try? It’s nice and cool in here.”  
“I’ll take my chances out here, thank you. I’d probably sink straight to the bottom.”  
“You know I’d save you.” Yidra pulled herself fully out of the pond and shook herself dry. “Is dinner soon?” she asked as she pulled her clothes on.  
“I caught sight of the salad bowls, so it can’t be too much longer.” Kerner took her paw and they walked off toward the tables. “Did you have fun in the pond?”  
“It’s nice for an afternoon swim, but it’s no replacement for an ocean,” Yidra said, thinking of her home.  
“You miss your family, don’t you?”  
“Of course. My family, my friends, all of the holt. The otters here are nice, but they aren’t family.”  
“We could go back, you know. Anytime you want.”  
“Not yet,” Yidra said, holding more tightly to Kerner. “It hasn’t been long enough yet. I don’t want to go back if you wouldn’t be safe.” She sighed. “Let’s just enjoy dinner tonight.”  
The Abbey’s evening mealtime began a few minutes later. Being summer, most of the dishes were served cold: crunchy green salads with vegetables fresh from the gardens, apples picked and washed early that day, cordials and ciders from the cool cellar, and a dozen other dishes each as delicious as the one before it. Despite the heat, the resident Redwall otters insisted on having some of their hotroot soup, which Yidra was enjoying as well. Dinner was well underway when Kerner noticed a few of the mice going to unbar the main gate.  
“I wonder what that’s about?” Kerner said to Yidra.   
The mice took the bar off and put it aside. They pulled the two large doors open and a score of creatures began entering the grounds. Yidra immediately noticed their long ears and brightly-colored jackets. One stood ahead of the rest, talking with Abbess Bryony.  
“Oh, it’s some of the Long Patrol,” Yidra said, surprised to see them in Mossflower. “I don’t think I mentioned we’d see some at the holt occasionally. We were at the very end of their northern patrol route. Maybe I’ll recognize a few. They’re a bit talkative and they eat a lot, but that’s hares for you. You ever met a hare before, love?” Kerner made no reply and Yidra turned to look at him.  
Kerner’s paws were clenched tightly into fists and he was staring at the hares with an intensity that frightened Yidra.   
“Kerner?” she said, giving him a gentle shake. “Kerner, what’s wrong?”  
“Stomach ache,” he said quickly, getting up from the table and heading off toward the darker parts of the grounds. Yidra was about to follow him when she was called back by the Abbess.  
“Yidra, this is Major Whitloch,” she said of the hare next to her. He wore a yellow jacket and had a sailor’s cutlass sheathed in his belt. “Yidra came not too long ago from the western coast. I thought she’d like to hear if there was any news from that area.”  
“Indeed, Madam Abbess,” the major said. “I’m ‘fraid there isn’t much news from the coast these days. We keep a close eye on things, of course, but things have been all peaceful like for a great many seasons now. I suppose it’s as they say, ‘no news is good news,’ wot?”   
“I certainly hope so, Major,” the Abbess agreed. “Is Lord Sunstripe still ruling at Salamandastron?”  
“His Lordship is still alive, but he spends most of his time with his farming. Let’s his son deal with most other matters. If I say so myself, it’s a jolly good thing he retired. Homes with two active adult male badgers tend not to stay standing very long.”  
“What brings the Long Patrol to Redwall?” Yidra asked. “It’s a bit out of the way for a standard patrol.”  
“Orders, lassie. Got to check in on our friends at the Abbey every now and then. Wouldn’t be right to not keep an eye out for our neighbors, eh? The Patrol comes by two or three times per season to make sure there aren’t any threats on the horizon.”  
“And we are always grateful for your assistance, Major,” the Abbess said. “Would you and your soldiers care to join us for supper? We’ve plenty to go around.”  
Creatures who had finished eating got up to make room for the hungry Long Patrollers. Yidra found herself sitting across from a hare named Pfeffer who had recently been promoted to Sergeant and was sitting proudly in his new grey uniform. An eyepatch covering his left eye gave him an air of mystery and danger.   
Yidra sat and listened to the hares chatting for a while. Hearing their banter reminded her of the dining-hall chatter back in Holt Warmspring. When the hares had taken their considerable fill, they went about the grounds, showing off their archery and swordplay to a fascinated audience of Abbeydwellers, who were entirely unfamiliar with the art of warfare.   
Yidra remained at the table with some of the younger Long Patrol recruits, Sergeant Pfeffer, and Abbess Bryony. Kerner joined them as well, having reappeared from his earlier disappearance. His ‘stomach ache’ seemed to have resolved itself, and he was wearing a smile on his face, as usual, but Yidra could tell there was something off about him.   
The Long Patrol hares were startled when the stoat suddenly sat down at the table with them. Yidra saw Pfeffer’s paw begin to drift toward his sabre before he caught himself and placed his paw back on the table. “Who is this?” he asked, addressing nobeast in particular.   
“This is Kerner,” Yidra introduced him. “We live together.”  
“Do you?” one of the hares asked, uncertainty in her voice. “Well, that’s …interesting. Didn’t know that stoats could learn to be civil.”  
“And I didn’t know that rabbits could grow such long ears,” Kerner replied, not even looking at the cadet, but smiling nonetheless.   
“Hare,” another cadet said disdainfully. “Try to remember that, if you can.”  
“Oh, I know what hares look like.”  
“Please,” the Abbess interrupted, “Redwall is a place of peace and friendship. Let’s not make this a night of insults and argument.”  
“Sorry, Abbess,” Kerner said. “Yes, Marm,” the hares said in one voice.   
They all remained at the table as evening turned into night. The kitchen helpers brought out snack for the creatures who were still awake. Kerner had been sitting quietly for the past few hours, but he was fixated on Sergeant Pfeffer, who seemed to be looking everywhere except in Kerner’s direction.   
“Time for bed,” the Abbess decided. “For me at least. You young ones stay up as long as you like. We older creatures need our rest.”  
“How about a story first?” Kerner said, speaking for the first time in hours. “How about you Pfeffer. How’d you lose that eye?”  
“It…it’s a combat injury. Sustained in the heat of battle,” he sputtered. “Fighting some vermin bandits. Don’t remember the particulars.”  
“They were farmers and fishers,” Kerner said, smile still on his face, though his voice was filled with spite. “Farmers and fishers, several families of stoats all living in a small settlement near the coast, not that far south of your mountain.”  
“I don’t know wha-”  
“It was late morning,” Kerner continued, ignoring Pfeffer, words spilling out of him like a waterfall. “The adults were collecting small crabs and fish that the outgoing tide had left in the pools. The mothers and older ones were getting food ready for lunch and dinner, watching their little ones play around the rocks. The village didn’t have much, but they had enough, and they were happy. They didn’t give trouble to anybeast. Never were robbers or thieves. The sky was clear that morning, and the sun was especially bright. Everything was quiet and peaceful until a shout rose up from the hillside. There were flashes of steel and a rain of arrows fell down upon the village. There was screaming, and running, and then the beasts with weapons were charging into the village. It was chaos. Mothers running to grab their children. Husbands running to protect their wives. They didn’t even have any weapons, just a few farming tools.” Tears flowed down Kerner’s face, but he still smiled, his voice rising as he continued.  
“And there you were in the thick of it, sword shining in the bright sun. A female stoat was kneeling on the ground, cradling her husband’s limp body, frozen in grief. You came up behind her and cut her down as she mourned. Then you looked up and saw a young stoat standing nearby, staring at you. Before you could raise your sword again or take a step he had thrown a rock at you. That young stoat often stood watch at the meager crop fields, and he well knew how to throw a stone to scare off the scavenging birds. The stone hit your right in the eye, and you fell, clasping at your bleeding face. The young stoat’s heart was full of terror, but it gave him a small amount of happiness to see you suffering. He ran. He was the only one who escaped from his home. He ran all day until he collapsed from exhaustion. From then on, he lived on his own, fighting to survive, terrified that any day somebeast would come charging over the hills to murder him the same way they had murdered his parents. Then one day he decided he was done being afraid, and that if he were to die the next day, he would live like that day was his last.”   
Kerner was finished. Everybeast near them had heard the end and were staring at him and Pfeffer. He sat quietly, staring at the Sergeant.   
“Lies!” the hare sputtered.   
“Then why are you shaking?” Kerner said accusingly. “You killed my mama.”   
In a flash, Pfeffer’s sabre was out and a whisker’s breadth away from Kerner’s face.  
Kerner sat unconcerned as he looked from the blade to Pfeffer’s eye. “Do it,” he said, almost pleading. “I told you I was done being afraid. Let me see my mama again.”   
Everything was still for a moment and then there was a loud clash of steel, and Pfeffer’s sabre went spinning from his grasp. Two hares grabbed him and pinned his arms behind his back. Major Whitloch stepped forward and sheathed his own sword.   
“I’m terribly sorry, Abbess. I’m not quite certain what’s going on. This is a rather…disturbing report, I have to say.” He addressed the two hares holding Pfeffer, pointing toward the gatehouse. “Take him over there. I’ll be with you shortly.” He turned back to the others. “Was anybeast hurt?” A general shaking of heads said no. “I’d like to talk with Kerner, if I could.”  
Yidra stood in his way. She didn’t fully understand what was happening either, but she just knew she had to protect Kerner.   
“Please step aside, lassie.” The Major requested.  
“No,” Yidra said defiantly. “I’m not some empty headed ottermaid who’s going to giggle and curtsy just ‘cause you’ve got a shiny sword and a uniform. You put a paw on him and you’ll be wearing your tail for a hat.”  
“Yidra,” Kerner put his paw on her shoulder. “I’ll be okay, we’re just going to talk.” He looked over at Bryony. “You can put that down, Mother Abbess.”  
Everybeast nearby looked at the Abbess’ paw; she was holding a long breadknife. She looked surprised to see it in her paw herself. “I picked it up when you had that blade to your head. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”  
“Everything is fine now, Bryony.” Kerner said. “Nobody is getting hurt tonight.” He walked away with the Major and sat a distance away by the wall.   
While the Major and Kerner were talking, the Abbess sent everyone else away, telling them they could clean up everything in the morning. One of the Major’s subordinates took charge over the rest of the Patrol, ordering them to set up camp at a corner of the wall.   
Yidra sat on the table, watching Kerner. She was too far away to hear what was being said, but she could tell that Kerner was upset and that Whitloch was disturbed by what he heard. At one point, Kerner seemed to break down, weeping uncontrollably. Yidra saw the Major kneel down and pull Kerner close, letting the stoat cry into his uniform, comforting him like any father would his children. Their talk ended soon afterward and they returned to where Yidra was waiting. Kerner only stayed a moment to mumble that he was going to bed. The Major kept going, heading toward the gatehouse where Pfeffer was being detained. Yidra wanted to know what was happening, so she dropped low and snuck into the nighttime shadows, half-crawling through the grounds until she was able to hear the Major addressing Pfeffer.   
“Is it true, Sergeant?”  
“Sir?”  
“Is what the stoat said, true? Did you and other Patrollers attack a non-hostile settlement?”  
“It’s…complicated, sir.”  
“Dammit, Sergeant! Did. It. Happen? Was a village attacked?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Who was in charge of your unit? You were only a cadet back then, if I recall correctly. You weren’t the beast making the bloody decisions, so who was?”  
Pfeffer remained silent.  
The Major slapped him across the face. “You unit commander, Sergeant! Now!”   
The suddenness of the blow sharpness of the order shocked Pfeffer into compliance. “Sir, my unit commander at the time was Captain Hollyhock.”   
“Was the settlement a bandit camp?”  
“Captain Hollyhock informed us it was, sir.”   
“Did you see these alleged bandits carrying any weapons beforehand? Handling goods that obviously weren’t theirs?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Did it look at all like any bandit camp you’d seen?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Did you think it was a bandit camp?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Why did you carry out the attack? You had enough reason to refuse.”  
“Sir,” Pfeffer’s voice began wavering. “Captain Hollyhock said he have us charged with mutiny if we refused. Have us drummed out of the Patrol. I was only a young cadet, sir. Being in the Patrol was all I ever wanted. And afterword he’d said that if we talked about what we did, we’d be court marshalled all the same.”   
Major Whitloch furrowed his brow. He paced back in forth in front of Pfeffer. “Is there anybeast with us now who can verify this?”  
“Corporal Wilder, sir. Also Privates Fletcher and Coltsfoot.” He paused. “Sir?”  
“What is it, Sergeant?”   
“I’m sorry, sir.”  
Whitloch stopped his pacing. “I’m not the one you’ll need to apologize to. You’re relieved of active duty for that stunt you pulled earlier. Pulling steel while a guest in another beast’s home? Dishonorable conduct. You’re on hauling detail until we’re back at Salamandastron. Understood?”  
“Understood, sir.”  
Yidra watched as Sergeant Pfeffer plodded across the Abbey lawn, head low. Major Whitloch was watching him as well. When he was out of site, the Major leaned against the gatehouse wall and slumped down to the ground. He looked over in Yidra’s direction. “Was that to your satisfaction, lassie?”  
Yidra stepped out of the shadows. “You knew I was there?”  
“You don’t get to be a major by being unobservant. Top marks on your stealth, however.” He pulled a flask from his belt and took a few sips.  
“What’s going to happen to the Sergeant now?”   
“Most likely he’ll be demoted and put on disciplinary leave for several seasons, at the very least. He could very easily be court marshalled as well. Damn shame. He had the makings of a fine officer. Does that sound just?”  
Yidra couldn’t but help feel a little sorry for the Sergeant. “What he did is…unforgiveable, but he didn’t really have a choice. His superior ordered him to do it.”  
“What you say is true, but nonetheless, we have rules that we must abide by. We can take into account extenuating circumstances, but we’ll have to investigate this matter and see. If this holds true, Captain Hollyhock will definitely be booted out, from the Long Patrol and the Mountain both.”  
“That still won’t make up for what happened to Kerner.”  
“That’s also true, but justice rarely makes up for everything. Sometimes all we can do is punish the guilty and make sure it never happens again.” Whitloch took another sip from his flask. “Poor stoat. He didn’t deserve any of that.”  
“I saw you two together when you were talking. You were holding him.”  
“He needed it, and he reminded me of my son.”  
“You have a son? Is he in the Patrol too?”  
“Goodness, no. He’s a gentle one. Wants to be a musician. Traveling between villages and roadside taverns, singing for his supper.” The Major drank some more. “Might send him here when he’s older. ‘tis a better place than a barrack room for him. Now why don’t you go and see to Kerner? Make sure he’s doing okay.”  
After leaving the Major by the gatehouse, Yidra went back into the Abbey and up to her room. She quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Kerner was curled up beneath his blankets, already asleep. Happy he was getting some sleep, Yidra slipped into her nightshirt and crawled into her bed. It took her hours to fall asleep. She wanted to help Kerner, but this wasn’t a problem that could be solved by giving him a fish.  
*  
Yidra slept in late the next morning, waking well after the sun had risen. She yawned and stretched her limbs, arching her back as she raised her paws to the ceiling. Across the room, Kerner was awake, but still in bed. He stared at the ceiling, saying nothing to Yidra even after she said ‘good morning’ to him. Rising from her bed, Yidra crossed the cold, stone floor and climbed into Kerner’s bed, cuddling up beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. He still said nothing, but wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.  
She lay there with him in silence, wishing she knew what he was thinking. “Love,” she said after lying with him for some time, “please say something.”  
Silence hung in the air as Kerner continued to stare at the ceiling, but at last he finally spoke. “Mama was a good creature. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”  
“Nobeast deserved that. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”  
“Because I knew you’d worry, and I knew you’d try to help, but this isn’t something you can fix.” He resumed his silence for another few minutes. “I hope my outburst last night didn’t scare you.”  
“It did. You told that hare to kill you. You were ready to die then and there.” Yidra choked up on her words. “Did you even think about what that would do to me if you…if you…”  
“I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s been seasons since I thought about what happened, and seeing him here brought it all flooding back. I was so angry, Yidra. I couldn’t think about anything besides my mother, sitting their helpless while he killed her. It hurt so much, Yidra. It hurt so much I just wanted to die.”  
Yidra pushed closer against Kerner. “You have a right to be angry after what happened, but don’t you dare throw your life away because of it. There are plenty of creatures here who care for you. And I need you. I don’t want to think about life without you.”   
Kerner turned his gaze from the ceiling and looked into Yidra’s pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, love. I would never do that. Last night was…overwhelming. You know I’d never leave you on purpose.”  
Yidra was glad to see Kerner had a bit more life to him, but she still wanted to talk more. She wanted to understand. “Tell me about your home. I’d like to hear about how you grew up.”  
Kerner looked at the streaming sunlight coming through the window. It was going to be lunchtime soon. “We should probably get out of bed. We have work to do.”  
Yidra held him down in the bed. “The Abbey will still be standing tomorrow. Let’s make today about us.”  
A small smile appeared on Kerner’s face. “Anything for you.” He settled back into the bed as Yidra found a comfortable position. “It’s hard for me to remember a lot; I was young, and a lot has happened since then. I know that our settlement had to do a lot of scavenging. Most of our homes were made out of driftwood or pieces of ships tossed on the shore. I remember my home was small, just a single-room shack. I remember sleeping in a hammock sometimes, but I do remember crawling into my parents’ bedding on the ground and cuddling between them. They’d each give me a kiss on the head and tell me they loved me.  
“Mama was wonderful. I can’t recall what it was she did for work, but it had something to do with clothes. I know she did a lot of sewing. She always wore an apron with pockets filled with different types of thread, and some of my earliest memories are of sitting by her side, watching as she patched up holes in blankets and clothing. But no matter how busy she was, she always made time to listen to stories I made up or to look at the little trinkets I found on the beach, even if they were just weird looking rocks.   
“Dad was my hero when I was growing up. He wasn’t in charge of the village, I don’t think we even had a leader, but he was the King of the World as far as I was concerned. He sometimes took me scavenging out on the beach, and I got to ‘help’ by holding and carrying things. When we were done, we’d play in the waves. He’d let me ride on his shoulders as he ran through the shallows. We’d splash and play for hours before going home where Mama would be angry that we got our clothes dirty, but she never stayed angry for long.”  
“What about other family?” Yidra asked. “Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins?”   
“I don’t really know. From what I remember of the others, we all looked different and didn’t have similar features, but we still treated each other like one big family.”  
“That’s what it’s like back in Holt Warmspring. My mother is from elsewhere, but my father has his parents and a sister there, along with her husband and children, but we don’t treat the rest of the holt any differently. We’re all part of the holt, so we’re family.”  
“You miss your home, don’t you?” Kerner said, half as a statement, half as a question.   
Yidra nodded. “It is my home, it’s where I grew up, where some of my happiest memories are from. Of course I want to go back some day, but not until it would be safe for you. I wouldn’t be happy unless you were there with me.”  
Kerner’s stomach rumbling interrupted any response he had. “Guess I’m hungry.”  
“Let’s go get something to eat then.”  
*  
The cool autumn wind rushed in from the plain and swept up the walls of the Abbey. Yidra turned her head aside from the gale and looked out onto the grounds in time to see red, gold, and brown leaves tear away from the orchard trees and scatter over the grass. When the wind died down, she looked westward again, thinking of home. As she thought, she subconsciously shook her paw about, adjusting the brass bracelet she wore around her wrist. She was still getting used to its weight. It had only been a few weeks since she and Kerner had gotten properly married in the traditional Abbey-style, which, like most other Abbey events, involved large quantities of food. One of the Redwall Brothers skilled in smelting had melted down an old candlestick holder and made two bracelets, one for her and one for Kerner. They were simple things, but Yidra thought they were elegant in their simplicity.   
Lost in thought as she leaned against the battlement, Yidra didn’t hear Kerner approach from behind until he spoke up.  
“It’s getting cold out. You should be inside by the fire.”  
Yidra turned to look at her husband. If the color change in the tree did not signal the arrival of autumn, than the changes in Kerner’s fur certainly did. His winter coat was growing in again, leaving him half-brown half-white for the time being. He gazed to the west as Yidra had been doing and put a paw on her shoulder.   
“You’re thinking of your home. You want to go back, don’t you?”  
“We’ve been gone for a long time,” Yidra said, not denying her longing, “longer than I originally planned.”  
“Let’s go back then,” Kerner suggested. “We’ve enough time before winter comes to make the journey.”  
“I know,” Yidra hesitated, “it’s just that…” her voice trailed off.  
“You’re still worried about how your holt will react to me,” Kerner finished her thought.   
Yidra nodded, “I’m afraid.”  
“Don’t be. No matter what happens, I’ll be there with you.”  
Yidra sighed wistfully, looking out in the direction of the coast. “Let’s go home.”  
*  
The ocean’s cold waves greeted the couple as they descended from the rolling dunes that separated the beach from the grassy plains. Yidra and Kerner walked along in silence, listening to the crashing of the surf against the shore. There were no seabirds calling; they had already flown south seeking fish among the warmer currents. On one patch of sand, just as desolate as any other, Kerner stopped and shuffled his footpaws about.  
“I think this is where we met,” he said.  
“It was a much nicer day back then,” Yidra reflected as a cold ocean wind blew in from the north.   
As they drew nearer to the holt, Kerner could tell Yidra was uneasy. Her stride grew shorter, and she kept looking over her shoulder to see if they were being watched.  
“It will be fine, love,” Kerner tried assuring her. “We need to keep going.”  
Yidra took his arm for support as they approached the holt. She had no idea of what would happen or what she would say.  
“If anything, we can always go back to Redwall,” Kerner said, as if reading her mind. “I liked it there. It’s a good place. We’d be happy there.”  
Yidra nodded. “I know, but I want to stay here with my family. I want them to like you. I want them to see you as part of their family the same as I do.”  
Kerner smiled. “Maybe not quite the same way you do.” He kissed her on the cheek. “The holt is around the next bend. Are you ready?”  
“No,” Yidra said. “But I don’t think that matters anymore.” She took a deep breath and held Kerner’s arm, then she started walking toward her home.  
Chief Colborn was sitting outside the cave, keeping watch as he usually did. He smiled when he saw the young couple approaching. He stood up and embraced Yidra, welcoming her home. “We’ve missed you, young’un. It’s about time you came home.”  
After Colborn let her go, Yidra took a step back from him. It felt good to feel his arms around her again; Colborn was like a grandfather to her. “How are things in the holt? And my family? Is it safe for Kerner to come in? What’s happened since we left?”  
“So many questions,” Colborn commented. “Your rapid departure was talked about for many days, as was your choice of partner. Some were in favor of chasing Kerner off entirely, others wanted the both of you banished forever.”  
Yidra frowned. “So they’re still against us.”   
“I wouldn’t say that,” Colborn said. “Your friends Nahia and Eira were quick to come to your defense when that sort of talk emerged.” Colborn chuckled. “I had to confine Nahia to her family’s cave for a day after she got into a fight with one of the less agreeable fellows over your…preferences. Your mother too would speak up to defend you. She was hardly happy with the situation, but she would say that she respected your decision and wouldn’t stand to hear a word against either you or Kerner.”  
“What about my father?”  
Colborn shrugged, uncertain. “Njord is…still difficult to read. He misses you, that is clear enough, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be fond of Kerner or your relationship with him.”  
“And what about you?” Yidra asked. “What do you say, as chieftain, about my decision? If this came to a village tribunal, what would your judgement be?”   
“This would never go to tribunal, not unless Kerner started severely breaking our rules. It would go against my fur to kick somebeast out simply because I was…uncertain of their character, but you’ve always been as sensible as any otter, Yidra. If you say your friend is trustworthy, that’s enough for me.”  
“Husband,” Yidra corrected him. “We decided to be married at Redwall.”  
“Well,” Colborn said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice, “I guess that makes him family. Welcome to the holt, Kerner.”  
The stoat smiled. “Does that mean I’m an otter now?”  
Colborn chuckled. “Get inside, the both of you. Go see your family, Yidra.”  
Yidra took Kerner’s paw and walked in. Colborn ruffled her headfur as she passed.   
To Yidra, the entry tunnel to the place that had been her home seemed dark and foreboding. The voices of others echoing from the cavern ahead felt ominous and menacing. Her footsteps slowed to a stop just before the main cavern. She trembled, anxious and afraid. Was this a mistake? Should she take Kerner and flee back to Redwall? A gentle paw brushing her cheek broke her train of thought. As always, Kerner was beside her.  
“You can do this,” he said definitively, uncompromising and firm, but at the same time warm and assuring. “We can do this.”   
Yidra pulled him close, holding him tight. She needed him now. She needed his confidence and optimism to keep her going. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”  
“You gave me a fish.”  
Letting Kerner go, but keeping hold of his arm, she tentatively walked forward around the bend and into the main cavern. The hollow was mostly empty. It was early in the evening, and most of the inhabitants had gone to their own homes to spend the rest of the evening with their families. The few who were lingering saw Yidra and Kerner enter. Nobeast said anything, but there were a few polite nods and more than a few stares. Kerner moved his arm protectively around Yidra’s waist. They were halfway across the cavern to the branching tunnels when a pair of voices cried out.  
“Yidra!” two brown blurs shot across the cavern and careened in Yidra, taking her and Kerner down to the ground.   
“Nahia, Eira,” Yidra gasped as she sat up regained her breath. Her friends grabbed her in a suffocating hug, forcing her back down to the floor again.   
“It’s about time you came home,” Eira said, flopping on the ground on Yidra’s side. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”  
“Though your absence did create quite a bit of interesting gossip,” Nahia added, lying on Yidra’s other side. “Though I’m pretty sure I created most of it.”  
“I hear you got into a fight as well.”  
“Someone had to defend your honor from the sea-slime Halvar was spewing.”  
“Halvar?!” Yidra exclaimed. “You got into a fight with Halvar? I take it you’re over your obsession with him?”  
“I was not obsessed with him,” Nahia insisted. “All right, maybe I was, but I’ve got someone better now.” Nahia paused and eagerly awaited for Yidra to ask her who it was, but Yidra refused to take the bait. Silence hung between them until Eira finally spoke up.  
“She and Ivan are together now.”  
“Ivan the basket-weaver? But he’s so quiet and timid.”  
Nahia shrugged. “I know what I like, and you don’t exactly have room to judge.”  
“You make an excellent point.” Yidra saw the truth in her words. “Could you let me up now? I’d like to go see my parents.”  
Nahia and Eira stood and pulled Yidra up onto her footpaws, brushing her fur down where it had become dirty from their hug-ambush. Kerner pushed himself up and pulled Yidra close. Before heading down the tunnel, he turned to Nahia and winked. “Do you still think I’m cute?” he asked, remembering what she had said the first time he had come to the holt.   
In this rare instance, Nahia was speechless, smiling and turning her head away as she presumably blushed beneath her fur. Eira started laughing.   
Leaving the two otters behind, Yidra and Kerner started down the tunnels, following the twists and turns until they finally arrived outside of Yidra’s family home. Only a thin curtain separated Yidra from her mother, father, and brothers. She felt the fine stitching of the fabric between her fingers. She remembered helping her mother sew it many seasons before. She had been so proud of herself, helping to make something for the home. She hoped that home would still be behind the curtain when she pulled it aside.   
Sensing her hesitation, Kerner placed his paw on top of Yidra’s, and together they pulled the curtain open.   
“Mum, Papa,” she said quietly as she stepped in, “we’re back.”  
There was a loud clanging from the direction of the kitchen and Yidra’s mother’s rushed out, her apron and paws covered in flour. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around her daughter, happy tears flowing down her face. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she was finally able to articulate. “Both of you,” she said, looking at Kerner. “I’m glad you’re both safe.”  
By then, Yidra’s brother’s had appeared, and they quickly joined their mother, hugging their sister. The two young otters had hit a growth spurt during Yidra’s absence, and were about a head taller than they had been when she left.   
It was then that Yidra’s father emerged, standing quietly to the side until the others had finished hugging.   
“Boys, go finish cleaning up in the kitchen,” Yidra’s mothered ushered them out. “We can all talk with Yidra and Kerner later.”  
As her father stepped up to her, Yidra saw Kerner tense up out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t forgotten their unceremonious departure.   
Her father silently placed his paws on her shoulders. “Yidra,” he finally managed to get out. “I’m…I’m sorry for what I did before. I shouldn’t have acted like that. It’s…it’s…I’m trying, Yid. I’m trying to be fine with all of this, but it’s hard for me. I just don’t know…maybe I’ll never be fine with this, but I’ll try, Yid. I promise I’ll try.” At last he finally gave in and pulled his daughter into an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re back, Little Fish. I don’t want you to leave again.”  
“Don’t worry, Papa. I’m not going anywhere.”  
When the hugging was all finished, Yidra’s mother took charge. “Are you two hungry? You must have been traveling for a long time.”  
“Mostly tired, Mum. The Abbey gave us more than enough food.” She kicked at a traveling pack they had brought along with them. “We could travel for another week with what we have left.”  
“Your space is just like you left it. We can find a spot for Kerner-”  
“Kerner can sleep with me, Mum. We got married at the Abbey.”  
Yidra’s mother threw her paws up. “Of course you did. I didn’t need to see my only daughter’s wedding. You young’uns have absolutely no patience.”  
Kerner backed off, his own paws up. “Don’t look at me, it was her idea.”  
“Thanks for your support, dear.” Yidra glared at Kerner.   
“We’re still going to celebrate at some point,” Yidra’s mother assured and threatened. “Now get to bed. We can all talk more in the morning.”  
Yidra led Kerner through her family’s home to the small alcove that was her own private place for sleeping and dressing. Her bed was a pile of blankets of varying design and thickness. The wide assortment of bedding could be easily rearranged for comfort and temperature. Yidra pulled a few of the thicker blankets up to use as covers. After the couple had shed their outer clothing they collapsed on the bedding. Yidra pulled the blankets over them and lay down, cuddling up to her husband.   
“That went better than I hoped,” she said, fully relieved after a day of stress. “What did you think?”  
“I’d like to talk to your father more,” Kerner told her. “I want him to like me, or at the very least trust me.”  
“You might be facing an impossible task. Papa can be very stubborn.”  
“It’ll be worth it. If this is going to be our home, I’d like to get along with everyone.”  
“Our home,” Yidra repeated the words. “I like the sound of that.” After a few moments of silence, she giggled.  
“What’s funny?”  
“Oh, nothing. I just remembered back to when I started maturing. Mum and Papa warned me about letting males onto my bed.”  
Kerner nuzzled her under the chin. “We’re nothing but trouble.”  
*  
The stoat was there waiting for him when he went out for his morning walk on the beach.   
“Excuse me. Njord, sir? I’d like to talk with you.”  
Njord turned around to face Kerner. The stoat had been living in the holt for a little more than a week. During that week, he and Yidra had moved out of the family cave to their own smaller cave along a distant branch of the tunnels. They all saw each other every day, but the stoat had never attempted to start a conversation with him before. It seemed to Njord like he was being given a respectful distance, a distance he was content with having.   
Njord sighed. “Yes, Kerner. What is it?”  
The stoat jogged up alongside Njord and walked with him down the beach. “I think it’s fair to say that you are far from fond of me. Yidra cares about you a lot and I care about Yidra, so I’d like to at least try to be friendly with each other.”  
That was the stoat for you: honest, straightforward, sincere, well-spoken. It would do the holt good if half the otters were like him, yet Njord found his demeanor a little irritating, almost like a mosquito bite. Probably because it was the stoat sleeping with his daughter.  
The stoat heard Njord’s silence and continued talking. “If you don’t feel like talking about this now, we can try again later, but I do want to talk this over eventually. Yidra wants me to be like one of the family, and I think it would help us both if we could work out the difficulties between us.”  
Polite. Courteous. Thoughtful.   
“I’ll talk to you later, sir,” the stoat said after a few moments of silence. He turned to go, but was stopped when Njord reached out and touched his shoulder.  
“Let’s sit down, Kerner.”  
Together, they found a patch of ground sheltered against the wind by the cliffs. They sat on the sand, facing each other, reclining against the rocks. Kerner opened his mouth to speak, but Njord silenced him with a gesture.  
“Let me talk, Kerner. I’ve thought about you a lot. You and your relationship with my daughter. I thought about it every day during the seasons you two were gone at the Abbey. Honestly, I’m not sure how to feel about you. A long time ago, my brother was killed by a ferret, and I barely got away myself. Ever since then, I saw any vermin I met as an enemy. So when you came along, it was easy for me to dislike you, hate you even. Adding my daughter to that was too much for me. I couldn’t understand it and I didn’t want to. I wanted to hate you.” Njord threw a pawful of sand at the cliffside, frustrated with himself. “Even now, I don’t know if I can understand it, an otter and a ver…a stoat. I thought about it while you and Yidra were away, and I never could find an answer that satisfies me. I talked to my wife, I talked to Yidra’s friends, the ones who knew the most about you, and after everything they told me…” Njord’s voice trailed off as he thought. “Kerner,” he said, looking the stoat in the eyes, “I can’t find a single good reason to dislike you. Yidra loves you, her friends like you, my wife, well, she likes you but has her own reservations. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been nothing but kind since you arrived, but for whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to like you. I want to like you, Kerner, but something is stopping me.” He grunted in frustration and threw another pawful of sand at the cliff. “Maybe I’m just too old. Can’t teach an old seadog new tricks.”   
Kerner got up and sat down again next to Njord. “Sir, I don’t begrudge for being suspicious. It seems to me you just want to protect your daughter. Once you see something as a threat, it’s hard to see it any other way. I know that the thought of the Long Patrol still churns my stomach more than anything else. I don’t think you mean to resent me, but you’re right, it is hard to change who you are, and I don’t think that change can happen overnight, or even over a few seasons. Who knows, maybe someday you might even be able to tolerate me.”  
The faintest hint of a smile briefly appeared on Njord’s face. “I don’t like it, you know. I really do want to like you. Everything I know about you says I should like you, but I can’t. It’s so frustrating,” he pushed his fist into the sand.  
“You wanna fight?” Kerner asked, fully sincere.  
“What?”  
“Not fight fight, just, you know, roughhouse? Might burn off some of that frustration.”  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Njord said.   
“Why? Afraid of getting your tail kicked?”  
“Nah, I don’t want to end up hurting a shorty like you.”  
“I could dance circles around you, old one.”  
The two creatures eyed each other and stood up. They found a patch of sand clear of rocks and started. They both kept it under control: no shots to the face, no blows stronger than a firm punch, give the other a chance to get back on their footpaws. They danced around in the sand, striking and dodging. They’d scrap, and one would get knocked over. They’d rest, and then they would fight again. In the end, both creatures were left sprawled out on the sand, breathless from their intense sparring. Neither beast was injured, but they would both have a few bumps and bruises for several days.  
“Kerner,” Njord said, lifting his head up from the sand, “I may not like you, I may never be able to like you, but I respect you. I’m glad you make my daughter happy.”  
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. And I think it will mean a lot to Yidra.”  
“One more thing,” Njord continued. “Promise me you’ll take good care of my daughter.”  
“I would never do otherwise, sir. She means the world to me.”  
Njord laid his head back on the sand. “She means the world to me too.”  
After resting for a while, Kerner was the first on his footpaws. He held out his paw to Njord. “Come on, old one. Let’s go get breakfast.”  
Slightly limping, they both made their way across the sand. Kerner had known going in that Njord wasn’t going to accept him immediately. Just like their journey home to get breakfast, things had to be taken one step at a time.  
*  
Epilogue - The Following Autumn   
Yidra and Kerner sat on the edge of the clifftop, dangling their legs over the ledge as they sat and watched as the stars began appearing in the deep blue sky, sparkling like diamonds on a sheet of black velvet. The haul of fish had been good that season; there would be more than enough to last through the entire winter and then some. Everything was well at Holt Warmspring.   
“Love?” Kerner said, breaking the silence they had been sitting in for the past half-hour.  
“Yes?”  
“Are you happy?”  
Yidra shifted closer to Kerner. “Of course I am. I’ve got my family, I’ve got my friends, and, most importantly, I’ve got you. Why do you ask?”  
“I was just…thinking. It’s been a full season-cycle since we got married, and after all the excitement of meeting each other and going to Redwall and back, we haven’t really done a lot these past few seasons. Then I thought of those stories Nahia reads to the cubs at their lessons, the ones that always end in ‘happily ever after.’ Is this what happily ever after feels like?”   
“Are you bored here, love?” Yidra asked. “Do you want to go traveling back to Redwall, or even down to the Southlands?”  
“No, that’s not it. I love it here. I’ve got a home, I’ve got a purpose, and, most importantly, I’ve got you. I just want to know what else life is going to hold for us. What else are we going to do?”  
Yidra thought for a while. “I really don’t know, but I suppose we’ll find out when it happens. I do know one thing: we’ll find out together, you and me.”  
Kerner smiled. “That sounds nice. Yeah, that sounds like a perfect happily ever after.”

The End


End file.
